In the quiet of the night

In the quiet of the night, I can contemplate the most marvelous things or the most pitiful sorrows. I can make them as big or as small as I choose. With only the low hum of my fan, I sit here and type away. Sometimes I wish I could type away the misery of my own and other people's lives; yet I cannot. It is then that I feel so small. And I type and I type.

In the course of my typing along comes a moment of faith and I am renewed. To the cruelest of people I'd like to say, "keep typing, you're not there yet." To the happiest of people I'd like to say, "Keep sending out what you've typed and encourage us to continue in understanding joy and love."

In the quiet of the night I can type chapter after chapter of my life, or of others that may never be read save by me? There are chapters that I've written that never a tear was shed until I reread them. It's also possible that not a tear was shed when an actual event occurred. It is only through the growth of my spirit that I am able to look in hindsight and weep in sorrow or in joy. This is good. This means I'm moving along, while at the same time, I can stand still and feel what I didn't or couldn't before. I find it further astounding that I can take those combined experiences and apply them appropriately to whatever is going on today. I can know when I'm sad. I can know when I'm joyful. I can know when someone else feels those same feelings. I can offer a shoulder, a smile, or both. Yet when the pain of too much sorrow or too much joy would overwhelm me I move to the quiet of the night and I type.

Type, as much as I do, I will not understand those people who love evil; not that they do evil, but that they love it. I can type about what they do. I can type about the attitudes, the facial expressions, the body language, and the heart sickening words. Within my being come the words my Mom used to say, though she wasn't the author, "There, but by the grace of God, go I." How fortunate, yea, how blessed I really am, that I do not love evil. God prevent me from that tragedy. I would not judge them, but I would not want to be them.... those who love evil. I have a difficult time praying for their change when I see no change ever occurring. Year after year I worry that those who love evil will realize too late what they have passed up. So into the night I go and type and I thank the Eternal that if they only exist to show me what not to want, then, it is well. I type, "I am made of dust.... and just as quickly as 'they' can be swept out, so can I."

When tears are shared and mingle together with someone who loves you they offer comfort. So when all of those tears are puddling at your shoes, know that you can step into a dry spot..... And I'll step with you.