Perched on Petit Jean Mountain's edge, we gaze as brilliant patches of sunlight escape the clouds and creep across darkened fields. Inching along, these miniature suns spotlight grazing livestock and hay bales–then move on to plunge them again into gloom.
Funny, I pondered, how well those roiling splotches portray life: sometimes light, sometimes dark, ever changing. Shadow may reign for a season, only to be dethroned by sun. Then shadows reappear….
My journal from several years back describes one intense manifestation of this repetitive cycle of sun and shadow:
(Shadow) It has rained almost every day, and that has created anxiety because the chimney needs repair.
(Sun) But there are actually times when I catch a glimpse of freedom from worry.
(Shadow) This has been a significant week, a point of crisis. There was perfect weather every day, but the man who was to caulk and paint the wooden chimney never showed up. I was especially anxious over the caulking because Hurricane Hugo was predicted to blow in rain on Friday and Saturday. There was no protection on the new wood, and I worried.
(Sun) At the height of the crisis, Mickey Cox called. Not only did he have a ladder tall enough to reach the top of the chimney, he agreed to come and help me. That was a real turning point, an intervention by the hand of God. On Saturday, we finished caulking and got a coat of paint over 80% of the chimney. How good God has been to me.
(Shadow) It has rained all weekend–continuously for at least 24 hours. I have been anxious over the rain–afraid of more leaking skylights. How trivial this sounds. It's completely illogical, going against all I've taught and claim to believe.
(Sun) But this afternoon the clouds have cleared out some.
(Shadow) The last three days have been difficult. Thursday night there were bad storms with hail, some the size of grapefruit. None hit us, but I was awakened by loud snapping noises and spent a sleepless night in anxious worry that the house might come crashing in.
(Sun) A builder came to inspect the house, and we decided that ordinary thermal expansion and contraction caused the sounds.
All repairs were eventually implemented despite my worries. Nevertheless, the months hence have seen the emergence of new shadows–and their corresponding suns.
Hymnist Lina Sandell Berg described their inextricable interaction. "Day by day, and with each passing moment, strength I find to meet my trials here; trusting in my Father's wise bestowment, I've no cause for worry or for fear. He, whose heart is kind beyond all measure, gives unto each day what He deems best, lovingly its part of pain and pleasure, mingling toil with peace and rest."
In the right proportions–and if I'll permit it–the opposing forces of sun and shadow shape and fit my soul into the mold of usefulness. And God is the master of the mix.
Copyright 2003 James McAlister
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