Journal for Christa—
If Elliott doesn’t get her nap out, she sits on the floor with a pacifier in each hand. As she fusses, she slowly removes one pacifier while inserting the other, making sure a split second doesn’t go by without at least one in her mouth. Some days are just 2 pacifier days.
Everyone has those days—they start out wrong from the beginning, and you just know it’ll be “one of those days.” They’re the kind of days you drop into bed at night and are glad because tomorrow has to be better—
Others, though, have entered the darkness, and a mountain of pacifiers isn’t going to help—and tomorrow may be no better at all. Two students I taught over 10 years ago have entered the abyss. Their little daughter, in a near drowning accident, lost her heartbeat for 30 minutes. Now, she hangs somewhere in-between—between the world we know and one we don’t. I remember them as high school sweethearts, crazy about each other and happy with the world. It seems surreal for me to picture them now as I watch their daily blog updates.
People amidst the darkness must rely on what they know to be true—that God is good and God is there. They can see no one else. They also walk in the habits they’ve already set. We establish our paths in the light, but when the veil of darkness falls, we can only find our way from the steps we already know. For these two, they may stumble, but I believe they will find their way.
It does make me ponder—I teach students who walk mainly in the light. I am often so shortsighted. I forget the twists their lives may take far beyond the English class. I also wonder about myself—Do I truly know what I know? And, I question—If I should walk in the valley of the shadow, would my feet know the way?