Crepuscular Rays

Yesterday was a day with extreme emotion. Someone close to me experienced a difficult loss. My heart grieves. Last night a friend, a walking miracle, who had a cancerous lung removed six days ago, attended a Relay for life meeting. I cried. From absolute joy.

A day of intense pain. And incredible happiness.

JOY and PAIN

are but two arteries of the one heart

that pumps through those

who don't numb themselves to 

REALLY LIVING.  --Ann Voskamp

I am reposting a blog from a similar day.

Recently I wrote a blog that mentioned crepuscular rays, sunbeams that appear to radiate from a single point in the sky. The rays burst out at dawn or dusk in columns of light, separate from the clouds and dark shadows.

Light.

Darkness.

Sun rising.

Sun setting.

Dawn when rays of light dispel the darkness.

Dusk when rays of light linger until the end of day.

This week my grandson arrived with the dawn, dispelling the shadows of a two-day labor that ended in a c-section. I spent the night before his birth on the couch, praying and texting my son for updates. When he sent me the first picture of Micah James via cell phone, I wept, overwhelmed at the miracle.

Today I attended a funeral at our church of a four-year-old girl.

So. Many. Tears.

A life-light shorter than anyone could have imagined.

Life beginning.

Life ending.

Sun rising.

Sun setting.

Which makes me want to ask a question:

When you look at a photo, can you tell the difference between a sunrise and a sunset?

I can't.

They are equally beautiful.

Both shine crepuscular rays that disperse darkness.

James 1:17 states, 

"Every good thing bestowed and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation, or shifting shadow."

The Father of Lights. The Giver of all things perfect and good. He is sunrise. He is sunset.

But never shadow.

It is a promise I cling to.

Today. A shadow day. A day of sun setting.

I look for crepuscular rays.