Ralph Waldo Emerson has said, “When it is dark enough, you can see the stars.”
Adversity sometimes feels like it’s surrounding us, darkening our outlook, casting shadows on all that we once believed or hoped. But when we’ve survived enough of it, we are blessed with more and more enlightenment.
I’ve always loved star-gazing. Astronomy-buffs know that when you’re really interested in viewing the heavens, you’ve got to go where it’s darkest. Perhaps the mountains, or the desert. You must escape “light pollution,” which is the haze created by the human race–our porch lights, store lights, street lamps, and glowing windows. Not that these things don’t have their importance, but their radiance wafts up into the sky and drowns out celestial objects we might otherwise see. So you must pack up your telescope and escape. You must seek out the darkest night to experience the greatest splendor.
Learning our child has a disability, and then living with all the associated realities can at first feel like a night that never ends. We have been displaced from our previous existence and enveloped in this cruel darkness. Why this child? Why me? Yet as we sit back, relax, and let be, our eyes slowly adjust. Our pupils grow larger. And soon the sparkles, the incredible brilliant sparkles of insight, love, compassion and peace come into view. To have the chance to see what is otherwise rare and precious is a gift. The sunshine eventually comes back into our lives, but we’ve already seen what others haven’t.
My children came home last night from their Christmas visitation. As we were standing by the baggage claim, I looked over at my son Kyle’s face as he eagerly watched for his luggage on the conveyor. His countenance was so bright and cheerful. I thought, “What would my life be like without Kyle?” He is my shining star.
Kristyn Crow is the author of this blog. Visit her website by clicking here. Some links on this blog may have been generated by outside sources are not necessarily endorsed by Kristyn Crow.
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