Hope Between Wind & Water

Dawn of Night

Photo by Chris on Unsplash

My soul arose at the dawn of night. I sat at my writing nook with the blinds raised high and windows open wide. The world outside was quiet. There was no wind. All around me was darkness and the blissful sound of rest. My hands danced across keys I could not see, but I had grown to know my fingers’ placement intimately.

I paused the beautiful symphony and reflected on a memory. My family visited Niagara Falls last fall. We boarded a ferry ride to witness the great power and winds of the waterfalls. As the boat approached the falls, the breeze picked up and the roaring sound of rushing waters drowned the poetic essence writers try to capture when speaking of flowing streams.

I thought of the familiar Bible passage of the Israelites walking through the Red Sea. The story of the parting sea once seemed like childish wonderment, not reality. On the ferry ride, I felt the mighty gusts of water splashing persistently on my face and imagined the fear of the Israelites on that miraculous day. I pictured their terror as they walked through walls of water filled with unseen and unknown creatures. Writing in darkness, I can’t fathom the deep depths of gloom they had to traverse, with only a pillar of fire ahead and behind them. There was no light in the middle—just an endless rush of water, wind, darkness, fear, and hope.

Just now, I peered up to the sky. Clouds were moving and clearing in the night. I saw the moon for a brief moment. As I began to write, it slowly disappeared and reappeared again. Now, it is gone. It’s faded behind the summer clouds. It’s still there; I just cannot see it. What’s ahead, I cannot see, but I know the presence of hope is waiting for me on the other side if only I believe. What is belief when met with rushing waters, strong winds, darkness, fear, and hope? Belief is the glow given from the start of the journey, and the rays of light provided throughout the walk in the middle of darkness to the infinite end. My desires and hopes are not founded on a whim. Life is a series of transitions where certain periods require resting to live out its season. Transitions are impossible pathways created with each new step of courage, transforming what once was into the newness of what is now. It is found in the dawn of night — hope infused between wind and water. 

Life*Lines

W.S.Thompson

July 2023

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