It's one of those phases of childhood that we'll laugh about when we've grown. But it's a rite of passage, this letting the lights go out and laughing in the face of the bitter dark. But how much easier it is to laugh about the monsters under our beds and werewolves in our closets when it's not the immediate and present fear. The current terrors are always the most real ones. Doesn't matter how old you get.
I guess it just pains me because I know you're choosing fear and I know how binding and debilitating fear can grow to be, how it can eat at you and chain you down. We think surely you can see that the dark holds nothing more evil than the day, that it's all a mind game. But we can't rationalize someone out of fear--it has to be triumphed, trumped with something stronger for the mind to hold to. I know this now, but you need to know it for yourself, you need to know that your mind doesn't have control over you. Your fear only lives off what you feed it.
I talk a good game, but if I'm honest with myself, part of me knows there's still that desperate, clinging child-heart in me, terrified of shadows, needing my little makeshift light as a fill-in for the true light of day. Only my shadows look a little more like loneliness and let down. And I clamor for my substitutes, my fixes.
But as I was trying to explain to you that night, when the last bulb burnt out, the last straw--and I think we both missed it--"Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path." Who needs a nightlight, Sweet One, when you have God's Word hidden in your heart--and you do! It is light.
And I'm honest with you, so I tell you that my mind plays tricks on me too, everyday. And that's when I go to any verses that I memorized in my head in order to hide in my heart. I say them out loud, like a lunatic, but I say them to myself in order to think on what is true, to light my lamp, to play the trump card.
Light is how you drown out shadows. Truth is how you drown out fears.