How to manage the darkness

What is going to happen to me in here? I stood in the dark, closet-like space that was the church confessional. I was 8 years old, and it was my first time. “Hello?” I whispered into the darkness, but no one answered. Fear made my palms moist, and my hands squeezed each other. I tried to adjust my eyes to the darkness, focusing hard into the blackness, hoping to see a person, wall or even a ceiling. But nothing.

“Hello,” I said again, a little louder this time. I was a child and didn’t know what to do. Just as my knobby knees started to tremble, a ray of light appeared. There was the kneeler before me, and the priest’s voice penetrated the quiet. Later I learned my terror was caused by a burned-out light bulb in the confessional.

Nearing age 50, I wonder what I’ve learned since that day in the confessional. The first answer is: I am still learning. But second and more important: There is always a burned-out light bulb situation that needs to be overcome.

Just last year my daughter joined the marching band at her high school, and this automatically launched me into a new role of “band parent.” Even the worst of TV sitcoms in which parents behave badly could not have prepared me for this experience. Our group ran the concession stand at the school’s football games.

For the entire season I worked next to a woman who refused to say hello to me or even make eye contact. Another mother told me a few of the ladies were concerned I was befriending the “wrong people” in the group. A righteous anger rose within me, and I kept thinking how Jesus never excluded anyone and wouldn’t want me to either.

So I continued sitting with those parents who were kind and accepting of me, yet at the same time I tried to offer a peace branch to the others who were growling from the sidelines. I focused on remaining true to myself and the convictions God has instilled in me through his Word.

When the school year ended, the good news was that I had made new friends. And the woman who avoided me most? She invited me and my family to a picnic at her home that summer. No one was happier than me to sit under her sun umbrella, talking and munching on chips and salad.

God blessed my simple efforts of reaching out and being a friend to the other parents. But what about the more complicated problems of life—failing health, losing one’s job or the death of a loved one? Sometimes circumstances arise in which we have no control and we need to remember God’s promise that he will never leave us. The best we can do is take each day as it comes, pray and rely on the strength the Lord provides.

My pastor often says, “God cares about the big and the little things that concern us.” So whether large or small, if we are concerned, he is concerned.

“We need a lot of help,” the homeless woman said to me. This happened when I was volunteering at an evacuation center. Our town went through an emergency when the nearby river threatened to flood homes, businesses and even the local women’s shelter. All the ladies from the shelter were corralled to one long table—their belongings in overstuffed garbage bags at their feet.

Months later, I still hear that voice asking for help, drawing me out of my self-centered, most-of-the-time-in-control way of life and calling me to just plain share myself with others who are lonely or suffering. Jesus loves us so much, what better way to love him in return than to help someone else whose light bulb is in need of repair?

I suppose the wisdom of an 8-year-old in a dark confessional shows us we should hold fast and not bolt at the least bit of discomfort that befalls us. What lessons we learn and how our lives are made rich when we work through our discomforts, one burned-out light bulb at a time!

Gloria Wallace lives in northeastern Pennsylvania and is the creator of Lipshine, an online devotional ministry: www.lipshinedevotion.com.