A Forgotten Light

twilightbarn

keepthelighton

Usually, after turning out that forgotten barn light, I sit on the edge of the tractor bucket for a few minutes and let my eyes adjust to the night outside. City people always notice the darkness here, but it’s never very dark if you wait till your eyes owl out a little….

I’m always glad to have to walk down to the barn in the night, and I always forget that it makes me glad. I heave on my coat, stomp into my barn boots and trudge down toward the barn light, muttering at myself. But then I sit in the dark, and I remember this gladness, and I walk back up to the gleaming house, listening for the horses.
~Verlyn Klinkenborg from A Light in the Barn

 

 

My favorite thing about walking up from the barn at night is looking at the lights glowing in our house, knowing the lives that have thrived there, even though each child has flown away to distant cities.

There is love there as we have rediscovered our “alone” life together.

There are still future years there, as many as God grants us to stay on the farm. It is home and it is light and if all it takes is a walk from a dark barn to remind me, I’ll leave the lights on in the barn at night more often.

 

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3 thoughts on “A Forgotten Light

  1. Light, to me, means ‘welcoming,’ and an assurance that there is someone there to help you see the path ahead in a compassionate attempt to affirm that
    whomever passes by on a ‘dark night of the soul’ will find kindness and the human love for one another that was the primary message that Jesus came to share with us over two millennia ago.

    My Gael-Irish grandmother from Mayo always kept a lantern above the small ‘milk house’ door on the side of her home
    She would turn on the light each night before retiring. She posted a note on the door inviting the tramps (a/k/a hobos) to help themselves to
    whatever food she had left for them. She fed them well with food from her table that evening. She often told me that it may have been possible that one of the travelers that night might have been Jesus! She never forget the starvation that she and her family had suffered from the English who tried to drive them out of their home and their lands. She would say that in America’s land of plenty no one should ever go hungry.

    The lovely Spring evening that she died (in her home in Upstate NY) the word passed quickly in her neighborhood and even beyond, as the word went out that ‘Annie McCulley’ was dying. There followed a long, long procession of people carrying lanterns or candles and singing hymns through the dark streets where they formed a circle outside her home…until the priest came outside to inform them that Annie was now in her eternal ‘home where she would be surrounded by a different kind
    of light that does not exist on this earth as she would be gathered into the loving arms of her ‘Jesus.”

    Liked by 1 person

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