Images and original text copyright assigned to:
The Living Lauren's Legacy Foundation 2017
In the darkness, my mind raced through "The Hopes and Fears" so prevalent in our humanness. It competed fiercely between the real feelings of the moment (the fears) with real experiences I had been given that created reason for the hope that exists eternally in my core. My mind compared darkness to light often. And, I love light. I am not so fond of darkness. But the darkness I knew was thick and palpable and unyielding ... and I needed escape. Darkness lingered in those wee hours of the morning before the sun arose, despite my yearnings for comfortable warmth and glow. Even if the same horrors exist in the light (which they did), they felt somehow more conquerable accompanied by light, clear vision, focused perspective. In darkness, I plead for its opposite. I scrambled for deliverance from darkness into light, ... for a beacon of brightness that we are known, that we are cared about, that perhaps ... even if not in this lifetime ... everything will be ok.
As I would rub my swollen eyes, arise from my bed and tiptoe from my room to leave my husband and daughter free to rest, I often looked up and out a second story window. There was a light there -- one that greeted my devastated heart with reassurance every night that I looked for it. I relied on that light. I counted on it. It was my escape from inescapable darkness. And by its light, my heart could sing with hope again.
It was a star -- an enormous ball of gas burning billions of miles from where I anxiously searched for it in hours of need. From my perspective, it was only a tiny little speck of light that wasn't visible in the brightness of day, but profoundly powerful in the darkness of night. I continually relied upon that little speck of light to dispel my overwhelming and permeating darkness, and it served as the reminder I needed that God loves us and that we had NOT been abandoned. I clung to God through the power in that tiny little speck of reaffirming light.
It was also a "tiny little speck of light" in permeating darkness that caused shepherds and wise men to set down their humanness long enough to seek after the Divine by following the pathway illuminated by that enormous ball of gas burning billions of miles away.
With Wondering Awe the Wisemen saw
the star in heaven gleaming
and in delight in peaceful night
they heard the angels singing:
Hosanna, Hosanna, Hosanna to his name!
By light of star they traveled far
to seek the lowly manger
A humble bed where in was laid
the Wondrous little Stranger.
Hosanna, Hosanna, Hosanna to his name!
(Matthew 2:1-11, With Wondering Awe LDS Hymnal #210 vs. 1, 2)
The star ... a "tiny little speck of light" ... the heavenly symbol and one messenger of where the Christ Child lay in a humble manger, come to give light to a world that lay in darkness ... overwhelming and permeating darkness. They had to journey from where they were to where he was, but they chartered their course and navigated their way by the light that was only visible in darkness. While it remained an enormous ball of gas burning and spinning in its own center of gravity with beams that pointed in the right direction during daylight hours, it wasn't visible to their humanness unless the world had revolved away from the daylight into the darkness of night. And, then, the star that pointed the way to where "The Hopes and Fears" of all the world would be met, became visible, constant, a true compass, ... a way to hope.
That tiny little star was their course to Him. And, the tiny little star outside my window was my pathway or course to return to the real Hope, authored by that baby, and born of my experiences in praising Him both in darkness and in light ... in the good days, the bad days, and the very worst of horrifying nights that encapsulate my journey on this earth, especially at the time of mothering an angel dying of cancer, and, inevitably, the grief that accompanies my life's travels since. And, it burns and spins and points the way not only in the light when my human eyes cannot see it, but in the dark when I yearn for it in the depths of my soul and look anxiously for it. It is a constant -- and my journey to find Him can most assuredly be chartered and navigated as a steady, unfailing course, despite the humanness and limitations of my eyes, my mind, and my heart, for He is steady, unlimited, unfailing hope.
It has been 8 years since Lauren left this life to join the angels Hosanna choruses, out of sight of my eyes and beyond my ears capacity. It has only been about 2 1/2 years since my mind and heart finally acknowledged that no matter the brightness (or lack of it) of the hour as I awaken, or how much I yearn for it, I will not find her hand when I reach, or the sound of her breathing when I listen. It pained me greatly to instinctively reach every night and morning all those years, and it pains me greatly that I now no longer have the instinct to do so. While I still don't love darkness, I've embraced what I've found in it. And, while I live and breathe, (Psalms 104:33) I will seek Him and will sing the song of His Redeeming love; for ...
As it was for shepherds and wisemen, He is the reason for the Hope that it is in me, and I know His promises are sure. Yes, even if not necessarily in this lifetime, because of Him, ... everything WILL ultimately be ok.
"Do not despair ... your star is still there!" (Shine For Me Again Star of Bethlehem)
The heav'nly star its rays afar
on every land is throwing
And shall not cease till holy peace
in all the earth is growing
Hosanna, Hosanna, Hosanna to his name!
Vs. 4
Wise men still seek him.
Love,
Lauren's Mom
