Photo by Clarissa, 2004, MorgueFile.com
Finding moments of light when darkness enters our lives is often difficult. Our sorrows, sins, and sufferings take over until they’re all we think about. But there’s more than all that if we take a moment, a deep breath, and a prayer, not only of supplication, but of thanksgiving to a truly merciful God.
That night in the dormitory room, instead of the
shadows, he studied the light on the ceiling—a pale
bluish, widening beam. Actually beautiful, he thought.
The first beauty he’d found within the prison walls. He’d
called Laura again, just after Mass, and was amazed
when she answered. The sound of her voice, fragile as
thinly spun glass, pierced his heart. Over and over, he’d
said he was sorry. And over and over, she condemned
what he’d done. But she had answered his call, and that
was a step.
He must have made some audible sound, because at
once, Raphael’s ruddy face popped up from the lower
bunk.
“Quit that crying, son! It ain’t over ’til the fat lady
sings. You’ll get out one day. Then the Lord and me are
gonna let you in on our cotton farm. So raise your hand
and believe it!”
He lifted his hand with the broken finger until he
could see it distinctly in the beam of light, and then
raised it high. Any future he’d have might be as
misshapen as that finger; but in this present moment, a
light shined in the darkness of his prison, and David
Fowler smiled.
—-The Psalm of David Fowler, page 98, Birds of a Feather
Translating a World on the Edge 