“There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.” Leonard Cohen, Selected Poems, 1956-68
It was because of No. 2 pencils. We needed them. For one of those testing milestones that punctuate the teen years.
“Let’s walk to the store,” my daughter said. And, we did, setting off at twilight for one of two small business districts that make our neighborhood function more like a village than part of a city that tentacles into several valleys.
About the time we decided it wasn’t prudent to take a short cut through a sliver of woods that feels quite safe during the day but less so at night, complete darkness fell.
Miles was tugging at his leash, excited to be roaming at an hour when clearly lesser dogs were limited to barking through windows. My daughter, with the keen eyes and legs of youth, was practically sprinting. And, I, being a woman of a certain age, was watching the ground intently lest I stumble in the dark.
That was when I noticed something good. As dark as it was, there was always just enough light to keep from falling. Always.
Sometimes it came from atop a pole owned by the city, a light so broad and bright it was a bit of day. Sometimes it came from a porch or even those tiny solar-powered stakes that people use to mark landscaping elements.
Light was there. And, it was always enough.
So it is in the believer’s world. Darkness may drape like a blanket, but there is always enough light to keep from falling. Always.