A Spark of Light

Sometimes it’s the simple shape
of the thinnest possible edge
of a slight crescent moon
barely visible in the evening sky,
a slender slice of white
caught in the radial slants
of blue and rose growing from the sun
as a sweltering summer day
fades away through the silhouettes
of scrub oak and hedge
on the edge of the western horizon.

Sometimes it’s the memory
of a fine moment,
a recollection of you at your best,
a time when life’s testing
found you full ready
and giving no thought or quarter
to the possibility
that you might not make it
and so you did,
and in such a fine way
that you had to say—
at least to yourself—
“well, maybe I did have the help
of some higher power”
and it was a mighty fine hour,
come to think of it.

Sometimes it’s that lingering voice
of a passed parent
telling you that short cuts
may sometimes save a little time
but often find you
going through some worse place
than waiting a little while would have taken you,
and that even though taking the high road
is sometimes a bit lonely
and may take a little more time
and a lot more effort,
it always leads you to
and leaves you at a better place
than all other routes.

Sometimes it’s that unexpected message,
the note or text or—for crying out loud—
an actual face-to-face conversation,
that reminds you
that you matter more than you thought,
that not everyone who knows you
is caught up in the easy road to criticize,
and that you always have a choice:

you can wilt and shrink and give up under the heat
or realize that your God is big enough
to stay with you in the kitchen
until the last loaf is baked,
the dishes are all washed, dried and put away,
the counter is clear and clean,
and even the stove is as shiny as a new attitude.

The Darkness will never love the Light
but there will always be some who travel with you
and sometimes struggle through the night
who see and appreciate
that you seek to do what is right and loving

especially when they know
that even though you may disagree
you will never quit caring
or seeking the Greater Good.

H. Arnett

About Doc Arnett

Native of southwestern Kentucky currently living in Ark City, Kansas, with my wife of twenty-nine years, Randa. We have, between us, eight children and twenty-eight grandkids. We enjoy singing, worship, remodeling and travel.
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