Traveling

“My God lightens my darkness.” -II Samuel 22:29

Last night, I saw my city stop and for a small section of an hour, everyone stood still and looked up as fireworks filled the sky.

During my time in Philadelphia, I’ve have been learning about living in a city, or at least about living in this city. There is rarely a pause. People are always moving and always going. There is pressure to keep up and stay ahead.

In the middle of all this moving, to see the world stop because of a simple display of fireworks was surprising. The sky darkened, music faded from a free concert on the museum steps, and the sky was filled with streaks of bright color that splintered the darkness and curved as if to fall on our uplifted faces.

I saw a small girl leaning into the stable safety of her dad, sucking on her thumb and looking both amazed at the fireworks and very glad to be so close to her father. People parked their cars in the middle of the street, and it seemed like conversations stopped, worries paused, and all we did was watch pieces of light spark against the night sky.

I am in a season right now when things seem to be moving too fast. Day tumbles after day, and I find myself in July gazing down the ever-shortening path of summer towards the day when I will leave the busy routine of life here and head into a very different rhythm of life in Mundri, Southern Sudan. I vacillate between readiness to be there now, and reluctance to leave this life I love. It is hard to stop and look up when there is lots to do and change is coming. In the midst of this running around, I was reminded last night to pause and look for pieces of light against the dark canvas of transition.

Recently, I sat in the hospital with Kevin and JD Bartkovich, friends from my time in Uganda. Kevin’s heart stopped for several minutes a few weeks ago, and we didn’t know if he would be the same in the aftermath of that trauma.

But because of God’s merciful restoration, Kevin has made a miraculous recovery.

I spent an afternoon with Kevin and JD in Durham, planning all the things I needed to pack for Sudan and joking about how I had lost all sense of American style after life in rural Africa. It was a conversation very like ones I had with them over Ethiopian food at their house in Bundibugyo, and yet hovering over the whole conversation was this amazement as sparks of hope pushed against the darkness of a world of sickness and loss. Simple things like laughter and popsicles glowed in the face of the fear that darkened those days in the hospital.

I hope I can remember to continue to pause in this season of change. I want to notice the lights in the sky, to look

up and be amazed. I want to be like the little girl I saw watching the fireworks, finding safety by leaning on my Heavenly Father, and watching as light flashes across the darkness. Even in sadness, and waiting for support for Sudan to come in, and living between two worlds, I hope today for a life marked by looking up and seeing the beauty of light that can stop the world and stay the darkness.