Have you ever had moments that triggered memories from the past?  One such moment occurred recently as I sat on my screened porch in the early hours of a new Spring day.  The temps were chilly, so I fixed a cup of hot chocolate, grabbed a blanket, and wrapped myself up to watch our bird feeders become the morning buffet line for a cacophony of our feathered friends.  A light rain and the morning chill found me cuddling with my blanket and savoring the warmth of that hot cup of cocoa.  

Here I was, warm and cozy.  The less-than-ideal weather reminded me that every day has its challenges.  And soon, I would need to extricate myself from the safety and warmth of my blanket of protection and engage the day.  What is it about such moments that kick-starts the newsreel in my mind to recollect similar experiences of the past?

I recall, as a nine-year-old, spending days with my grandmother.  Her home had only one heated room, and it wasn’t the bedroom I slept in.  I recall winter evenings, leaving the warmth of her living room, racing to the bedroom, diving under layers of quilts, and praying my body heat would soon calm my shivering body. The following morning I would awake warm and toasty under her handmade quilts.  The chill of the morning air reminded my face, “It’s cold out there.  Better stay under the covers!”  Why is it that the most comfortable time in bed is the last minute you are in it?  Smelling the aroma of bacon or hearing my grandmother’s voice, I would leap from my quilted comfort and run to what I hoped would be the warmth of my grandmother’s living room and a hot breakfast.

Flash forward a few decades.  I recall driving to work on a cold, windy day with sheets of rain pelting my car.  The misery index matched the humidity at 100%.  Pulling into the closest parking place I could find, only to realize I still had 50 yards to transgress through the freezing monsoon of a January day to reach the front door of my office building.  Sitting in my car with the heat still on, I paused to ponder the moment.  The world outside my car was a mess.  But, for the moment, I gave thanks.  I was at peace, warm and dry in my car.  My spirit was calm, knowing that I was loved, my life had meaning, and my faith was strong.  The pelting rain smashing my windshield was but a momentary distraction.  No matter the storms outside, inside, I knew there is a God, and He loves me.  And then I told myself,  “Unbuckle the seat belt, grab the umbrella, it’s time to engage the day.”

These flashbacks transport me to yet another time and place — every time I go to church. There, in my church’s liturgical tradition, I kneel, I pray, I celebrate God’s redemption of my soul, and I worship.  The world outside may be a mess with disease, war, and man’s inhumanity to man.  Still, in worship, I am reminded of the peace that surpasses all understanding, of a love that is unconditional, and the grace that is always available.  Yes, even in the midst of life’s storms, there is peace, love, and grace.

Bad things happen in life. The storms will come.  And how I respond to them defines me. Enjoy the warmth of a blanket, the safe refuge of shelter, and the faith-charging, life-changing time in a pew.  But, know that there comes a moment every day when you must step out from your refuge into the darkness and be a light.

Time to rise and shine.