How deep is the night...

Here is another post from our daughter Laura, who lost her first child, Nadia, six weeks ago at 24 weeks' gestation. We continue to mourn, but we are not without Hope.


Often, the vast darkness and emptiness of pain and grief feels blinding. It's cold, and lonely, and seems ready to devour me whole. I can't see past it, or through it. How I need a light! How thankful I am that I have a light. I have the ultimate light source in my Father. He is my hope and my strength, my light in the utmost darkness.

I've often wondered, along with my friends and family, how anyone can go through this kind of pain and grief without God. I don't know how it's possible. The pain has been so great, yet I know I'm held tight, and I have hope. What darkness it must truly be without any hope or security!

I was thinking about this darkness on our recent vacation. Justin and I visited the Lava River Cave near Bend, OR. It's about a mile long, and you walk in until you can't, or don't want to, go any further. Then you walk the mile back out. It was sunny and pushing 80 degrees outside the cave, yet there was ice 50 feet in. About 100 feet in, still bathed in the dim glow of the entrance, the darkness ahead was so great that our flashlight wasn't enough for us to see. While Justin went back to get a lantern, I waited in the cave. I was standing in the light still, but I couldn't see what was around me. Waiting in the cold, in the dark, I marveled at how the light disappeared into the walls of the cave. The emptiness and darkness seemed to be waiting to swallow up all that ventured in. Only when we had the strong light from the lantern could we see the path ahead, and see the scarred but beautiful walls from the lava long ago. Such beauty from fire!

About a week before we lost Nadia, I was listening to my audio book version of "The Last Battle" by C.S. Lewis. Near the end of the book, after the battle, the main characters find themselves in a bright meadow, not the dark stable they were expecting. There they meet Aslan and are reunited with him. As they wander about, they see the dwarves huddled together, stepping on each other, and acting as though they were blind. When Lucy and the others talk to them, they find that the dwarves can't see the meadow or the light. All they see is the very dark interior of a stable that doesn't exist. They are in complete darkness, yet surrounded by light. Aslan talks to them, but they refuse to believe him. They refuse to believe that he is there or that he is real, and in that choose to remain in the darkness while the others continue "Further up, and further in!".

I'm always struck by that picture. Alone in the darkness, void of all hope. Complete darkness, like in the lava cave. How lonley and cold it is when we separate ourselves from God. A word of belief and the dwarves would have seen. A willing heart and we shall have our light that never fades or fails. God will never leave us in the valley of the night. He will not allow the darkness to swallow us. He is there with us, letting us see what gems He has hidden in the darkness, if we will only allow Him to.

"If I say, 'Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,' even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like day, for darkness is as light to you." Psalm 139:11-12

"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, 'He is my refuge and my fortress, my God in whom I trust." Psalm 91:1-2

"You will not fear the terror of the night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday." Psalm 91:5-6

I find myself thinking about Psalm 23. " The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want." He's here. He's my light in the darkness, for to Him, there is no night. Even in the valley of the shadow of death, He can see. When I'm blinded by my grief, and when the pain surges anew, I need only remember that He can see clearly. He will lead me gently, and I need only to trust and follow.

It's still night. Not as dark as it has been, but night nevertheless. I will not fear the night, but look for the beauty and treasures hidden in it, for my light is everlasting. I am safe, I am warm. The storm rages around me, within me; the thunder cracks, the lighning flashes. But I am safe in my Father's arms. What a hope I have! What a hope those who know Him have. I have a place to rest. Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.