Cries in the Dark

When I woke in the morning it was dark, and our house was still and quiet. As I began moving down the stairs I heard a rustling sound, and I knew my Bella was awake. I popped my head in her room and saw her silhouette illuminated by her nightlight. “Hey, Bella girl,” I whispered. “You coming down with me?”

She jumped out of bed and I helped her into her robe. We started walking together in the dimly lit room, then suddenly she turned and ran back across her room to her new nightlight. Excited to have something new, she switched it off not thinking about what would happen, and the room was plunged into darkness.

All I heard was sheer terror in her voice as she cried out, “Mommy! MOMMY!”

I heard the terror. I knew she was afraid of the dark. I knew even more so, she was afraid I was gone out the door and she was alone in that dark room.

I knew because I know her.

And I went to her, finding her hand in the darkness, I pulled her close and wiped her face–a face saturated by tears in just a few short moments. I picked her up, hugging her, soothing her and letting her know it’s all right. I knew she needed to hear those whisperings.

I knew because I know her.

I carried her down the stairs and we began working on breakfast and packing lunches together, and she sang as she worked, “Saviuh, he can move the mountains! My God is mighty to save. He is mighty to save!” All fear was gone.

That’s a bit how life has been for me these past couple of months. Since my surgery, my body has been slow to recover, but more than that, because all of my cancers and the surgery are hormone related, everything is off kilter. I am on different meds that I must adjust to. My replacement thyroid medication is imbalanced. My body is worn and weary and my sleep patterns are off as I wake 5-10 times a night. All of it causes physical imbalance and depression that is overwhelming.

Like my little girl, plunged into darkness, I feel that terror rising up in me every single day. The sadness, the darkness. And there is “no reason why” to my reasonable mind. And like my little girl, I find myself unable to do much more than cry, “Father! FATHER!” to my God. He knows everything I am going through… He’s known all along.

He knows because He knows me.

He comes to me. Sometimes I don’t hear Him or see Him in the darkness, the apathy. But He comes anyway. And over time, I see Him. He shows me Himself in the big things and the small things (and there have been both big things and small things hitting us these past few months.) He whispers truth from His Word or from the mouths of my friends who are walking through this with me. He carries me into the light because He knows I need to see.

He knows because He knows me.

And it is good to be known.

5 responses to “Cries in the Dark”

  1. “I will go before you, and make the crooked places straight – I will break in pieces the gates of brass, and cut in sunder the bars of iron – and I will give you the treasures of darkness, and hidden riches of secret places, that you may know that I, the Lord, who calls you by name, am the God of Israel.” Isaiah 45:2,3



  2. I needed to hear this today. Right now, as a matter of fact. Thanks.


  3. Avatar

    My sweet one,

    You were on my mind today. So thankful to hear from you. I remember you in my prayers.

    Grace to you,


  4. “He comes to me. Sometimes I don’t hear Him or see Him in the darkness, the apathy. But He comes anyway.”

    Oh the promise of that… He comes anyway.

    All that kept spiraling through my mind while reading this is, “Darkness is as light to Him.”

    Our darkness does not dictate darkness for Him. Our darkness remains fully exposed and clearly seen before Him. And He comes…

    Clinging to this promise of hope and truth!

    Praying for you today sweet friend!


  5. You have such a gift of weaving every day moments into beautiful illustrations of God-light! Thank you for blessing me today.


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