Missing the Light

Last night we went to Travis's parents for a little Christmas gathering. The way to their house is lovely. Every time we go, I look forward to the spot where we crest the mountain and the lights of Salt Lake are spread out before us like a bed of sparkling diamonds. As we descend into the valley, there are several places where the view of the Draper Temple is breathtaking. A little further down we can see the Draper temple, the Jordan River temple and the Ochre Mountain temple at the same time. It's a beautiful drive.

Last night as we reached the summit, something was different. The air was thick with fog, smog, and nasty inversion air. I'd been hearing for several days that the air quality wasn't good but I was unprepared for what I saw.


No lights. No temples. We could hardly see the road in front of us. The darkness was thick and it felt like it was pressing in on us. There was nothing beautiful, nothing bright. There wasn't even anything outside the car to fix your gaze on. It was just this heavy, dark mass. It was unsettling.

As we crawled down the mountain, I became more and more unnerved. I not only missed the beautiful things I looked forward to seeing, I missed seeing anything that gave me perspective. I wanted to see something, anything, that would help me pinpoint where on the mountain we were. And there was nothing.

I thought of Lehi's dream and the mists of darkness. It felt like we were slogging through those very mists and I felt immediately grateful for the spiritual and emotional anchors in my life. My heart breaks for those who can't or won't see the sparkling lights of truth that come from the gospel of Jesus Christ, who feel closed in by those mists and can't get a glimpse of the landmarks that give life perspective, that represent love and peace and eternity.

I felt unsettled by the physical mists last night. How desperate it must feel to have no sight of the big picture before us because of the stifling, suffocating dark mists that surround our spirits.

This week I'm so grateful for my Savior, who is the light that leads our way, who through his life, death and resurrection, burns off the terrible mists of darkness and reveals the plan for our eternal happiness.

This week, let's spend some time reflecting on that baby that was born that night in Bethlehem, who became the light and life of the world.

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1 comment:

missy said...

A great story and analogy. It reminds me of an experience I had many years ago that I wrote about here: http://stowell.fami.ly/?p=193