One of my favorite verses in Proverbs is the one that says that "the path of the righteous is like the light of dawn, that shines brighter and brighter until the full day." It was an exhilarating promise in the good times, one of those feel good sayings that makes everything warm and fuzzy, like you've just had an extended cuddle with God.
Change the circumstances: when everything is rough, when all of that stuff that I crammed into that spare room closet over the years suddenly reaches critical mass and spills out in an avalanche of stale air and moldy, rotting junk. What do you do with the detritus of twenty years? Half-baked dreams and forgotten desires, repressed pieces of personality that got hastily shoved out of the way before they could upset the status quo, and a leftover lie that somehow didn't quite reach the trash during spring cleaning three years back, all of these things and more that inundate me, and I don't even know where to begin.
And now, after a day of bawling and another day of shouting, all I have is confusion, exhaustion, frustration, and pain. I could probably cry for another day or two, but the tears begin to feel wasted after a certain point. It is here in the valley that the promise of God is most meaningful. Though it hurts to look over so much that I thought I had gotten rid of, still I know that on the other side of a very long time spent sorting, cleaning, disposing of some things, putting others to use once again, and boxing up still others for a later time, there is a road that leads upward. In the hours before dawn when all is dark, still, and silent, the only hope to cling to is expectation of the sun rise. And even then, the light of the stars shines as a reminder that all is not lost.
