The storm moved quickly, in stealth fashion from the southwest. Wind rattled the doors and rain pelted the windows. The lights flickered, dimmed, and then the neighborhood went dark.
Blackness covered the interior of the house like a mourner’s garb. Only from the front bay window could I see a shadow of light that seemed to perform in a scary motion. I sat there alone in the sea of darkness, held captive by the small sliver of motion light coming from the front of the house.
Alone, feeling empty and afraid, I was drawn toward the light. Thunder rolled like a thousand potato wagons across the sky. Lightening bolts played the sky like a fiddler’s bow.
Yet, I was drawn toward the light. I left the comforting but unsecured confines of the sofa and approached the window. One lone street light fought bravely against the abyss. Tree limbs attempted to hide the brave rays of light.
The calls from the gusting sea of wind and ebony-shrouded room caused me to reflect on other lonely nights of long ago.
As a child, I was left alone often. I felt comfortable when we lived in the country, but moving into town caused my anxiety levels to approach those of a pretestosterone teenager. People, movement, and noise confused my mind, and allowed the spirit of abandonment to approach my terrified heart. To relieve my fears, I would go outside and sit under the streetlight in front of our house. There, among friendly beams and comforting insects, I managed to wile away the hours until my mother came home.
At first, I was terribly afraid the light would go out. Then I told myself, if this should happen surely someone would be sent to repair it, and maybe they would talk and befriend me.
Today those fears have evaporated as quickly as a New England fog. A spiritual light has relieved my fears. A light that grows with every good deed, and profitable opportunity. The man, unlike the little boy, never fears that the light will go out. Every attempt is made to bring others into this light. To share the soothing warmth of healing that can only come when one is able to overcome the darkness with the spirit of self-realization.
In times of great peril, nations as well as individuals look to a higher calling for guidance. Things that once seemed so important, aren’t so valuable after all. From within ourselves lies the secret to peace and fulfillment. As creatures that were conceived in the dark, the light will always draw us. A light that not only helps us to see, but bathes us with the warmth of charity.
Life will always offer us storms. Perils will descend from the heavens like dandruff flakes from an old man’s scalp. But we can learn from these trials. For it is from failure that we learn the most, and loss that positions us to appreciate what we already have.
My one great fear is that humankind will remain in the dark, afraid to move into the light because of a feeling of unworthiness, or knowing that staying out of the darkness has a price to be paid. I challenge you to discard your petty excuses and gird yourselves up, and move toward the light. For it is in the light that hope and love abounds.
The next morning the electricity was back on, and all appeared well with my soul. Tree branches and leaves were scattered like toy soldiers across the yard. A neighbor’s fence lay like a discarded snake. Trees were missing from the parkland below, and some street signs lay skewed.
While I was out clearing the front yard, I glanced up at the street light. It was still burning, but the day had camouflaged its radiance. The next time I looked, it had gone out, appearing to remain lit that day, just long enough to assure me that its light will always be there.
Tonight as I conclude this writing, I look down from my study toward the street. There, shining like an ancient sentinel, the light can be seen. The wind that now is pleasing to the ear brings this message, “For I am with you, even until the end of the Earth.”

Durhl Caussey is a syndicated columnist who writes for papers across America. He may be reached at this newspaper or dcaussey@sbcglobal.net.