With feelings of depression or hopelessness, life is dark; positive emotions so far out of reach, it seems impossible to recall how it feels to be content or happy. The light has been replaced with darkness.

Rather than perceiving this darkness as the opposite of light, it may be more correct in being perceived as the absence of Light, the absence of God.

Because there is none else.

GOD IS.

Every thing is His creation, His majesty.

The synchronicity and the incredible design found in the living things specific for sustenance within an environment is in every living thing on the earth; most incredible and intricate and found in the very smallest forms of life. And the closer we look, there’s even more detail for a specific purpose, beautifully balanced within itself, and with every other thing in the space around it.. all working synergistically, in harmony and in support of the environment, that after being brought into existence lives, grows, multiplies and thrives, unchanged in purpose and being.

Darkness is the absence of Light…the absence of God.

Because there is only ONE, or, there is His absence, dreadful and dark.

1 John 1:5
This then is the message which we have heard of him, and declare unto you, that God is light, and in him is no darkness at all.

Pray!

This comes to me now:

When I was a child, I have a clear recollection of a summer day, lying in the grass and looking closely at the life forms all around me. I decided to remain motionless to perceive what came into the space in front of my eyes, what I could see without moving my head. I realized the incredible activity and the beauty. Every weed was amazing, I discovered the design in everything. After a while I discovered an entire community of insects living in harmony, each pursuing its particular interest in a flower. Bees flying in to access pollen as some smaller insect that I could not identify went about its business roaming underneath at the stem, resting there it seemed, sheltering from the sun. Butterflies fluttering from one to the next of the wildflowers. And the ants scouting about the ground having discovered some morsel to deliver back home and working in an invisible line with other ants, each briskly baring treasures larger than themselves. And I thought of how the entire yard had to be quietly populated just as the space was where I decided to lie down after eating my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. For many days after that, I remained conscious of what my every step might be destroying whenever I went out into my backyard.

Have a beautiful day everyone!

God loves you!

Char

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A few years ago, I was grappling with a health condition which defied understanding of several medical professionals. After extensive online research, I myself would come to discover what was keeping me ill. The process was draining and exhausting. One day, at my desk wondering where else to look for answers, I folded my arms and rested my head. I seemed to be falling asleep a much more pleasant and beautiful memory from my childhood, of a summer that I visited with my grandparents at their farm in Virginia drifted into my mind. It was a very clear recollection of what happened so long ago so I started to write everything that was coming to me.

Here is an excerpt of what turned out to be a 50-page novelette.

This is the 4th chapter where I tell of the night my grandfather picked up my mother and me from the train station in Fredericksburg, Va.

4

My grandfather’s forest green Buick was quite the automobile with plush seats that reminded me of our living room couch. It was round like cars were then, with huge chrome grill adorning the front of it. The doors closed with an impressive sound, firm and solid, and inside there was a slight scent of musk from having been parked for long periods of time, I imagined, in reserve for special occasions. Buffed to a high sheen and with the occasional scent possessed by new cars, we made our way through the dark night under a sky as I had never seen it; so filled with stars with practically no space at all between them. “We don’t get to see so many stars back home do we? Isn’t it beautiful?” she said. I turned to the rear window. The entire sky seemed to defy the passage of the vehicle as did the farmhouses, trees, and roadside mailboxes. I began to feel very small and insignificant as I turned back around and closer to my mother.

From the highway the tires ground onto a narrow dirt road. As we rumbled along the air became moist, cool; filled with the many unfamiliar scents of the countryside. The startling awareness of skunk was somewhat softened by the sweet surprise of wild honeysuckle that my mother said grew wildly along the length of a fence. The Buick’s headlamps captured husks growing low on towering cornstalks. The crop had grown out over the sides of the road threatening to swallow the car as well, but only the sound, reduced to a soft rumble was forfeited, as it flumped up and over the bumps in the road and in and out of the ditches. With yellow cones of light showing the way, the night was teeming with fluttering ethereal life forms darting in and out, and the relentless sound of a million crickets. 

Through the darkness we walked along a small path toward the light of the farmhouse to find my Grandmother waiting by the kitchen door. Her smiling eyes were mere crescents above cheeks like apples and her braid was coiled and pinned back. She was shorter than she seemed from the stories my mother had told about her. I remember never having been as completely hugged as I was that day within her full bosom, smelling of the coconut cake that was at the center of the table in the old country kitchen. I felt known and loved in the most reassuring way. And I thought that she must have heard many stories about me as well, and that eventually I would discover somewhere in this house without mantels, the baby-in-pink with-teddy picture that other seldom visited relatives all seemed to possess. After a glass of lemonade and a piece of the coconut cake, I was shuttled off to bed as the elders lingered over a pitcher of tea. I remember that the smokehouse hickory seemed to be everywhere, even in the sheets with the little red roses that I slept on that night.

Available through my publisher, Booklocker. 

  http://booklocker.com/books/4718.html

and:

Barnes & Noble

https://barnesandnoble.com/w/two-little-girls-charon-diane/1022157163?ean=9781609101374

You are amazing!  Create something beautiful today!

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