Light

As I lay in bed the light slowly creeps into the room. It isn’t quite sunrise yet but it isn’t completely dark either. I stretch the littlest bit and then roll over to my other side to sleep some more, not yet fully roused for the day and wanting to stay in my half-asleep, half-awake mode.

The light of the sun shouldn’t be able to come through our darkened drapes, our made to keep the light out drapes, but there is often a crack between the sections of the drapes that somehow allows a little light. By the time I awake more fully there is more light than before which is actually a good thing because I don’t like to have to get up while it is dark. 

I slide my legs over the side of the bed and my feet touch the floor as more light floods the room. By now my eyes are adjusted. It’s so much better than the harsh light of the bathroom when I need to go in there during the night and turn on the lights. Just the right amount of light comes into the bathroom through the blinds there at this time of morning so that there is no need for more.

In a few minutes, I run my fingers through my hair to sort it out and get it presentable for the day, and then sometimes, if I haven’t already prayed before getting out of bed, I lay back down and talk to God.

I love you, God, I say. Repeating it and meaning it, I do love God. Then by habit, and by necessity, I say please forgive me, God. I think of what I have done that needs forgiving and remember that I really need both of these. I need God to love me and to forgive me and tell me so.

I hear God say, I love you, I forgive you. Then I can move on and pray for those in my family and for others I might pray for that morning but first I needed to be told by God that I am loved and forgiven.

That is the light that I needed most to come into my darkened room, to my darkened life. Love and forgiveness. Light.