WAIT UP FOR ME
/I’m not afraid of THE dark. I am afraid of dark. That darkness that comes with dishonesty, mistrust, deceit, hate, disease… I am afraid of that dark.
We heard glass breaking and a woman screaming. I was eleven or twelve. It was a summer Saturday night, just beyond dusk. We were probably chasing fireflys. The screams were coming from the house next door to my aunt and uncle’s. We went closer for some reason. At that point the darkness was our friend. Then we could see the flames. Her house was on fire. We ran for help. Soon the night sky was split with flashing lights and sirens. I did not want to go to sleep that night. I could still smell smoke and hear that woman. If I closed my eyes, whatever other terrors the dark held might come. Maybe it was a child’s dose of PTSD. I dreaded nightfall for days and weeks after that.
Sometimes I still do.
As I’ve written before, I got a close look at the late 60s. I was in Detroit during race riots and in Washington D.C. during Nixon’s innaugural parade. I saw what went on behind the scenes at that event. It was a rock-hard contrast to the celebratory facade on the party side of the parade.
But this; this divisivness, this dehumanization, this darkness. Is it the demise of the dream?
I’m not fatalistic. I may be a cynic, maybe an accidental malcontent but I’m not a doomsday soothsayer. I know “the darkness hour is just before the dawn”. God gives us proof of that at least 365 times every year.
Still, just as my twelve year-old self dreaded the dark after that fire, my 60-something self despises the Dark in this current dumpster fire we call 2020. But I know this:
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”
I know this empirically and existentially. I know it spiritually and faithfully, I know it for me and I know it for you. I know it in light and in dark. “Lord I believe. Help me with my unbelief.”
The story is told of Robert Louis Stevenson and his childhood fascination with lamplighters. Apparently back in the day of gas street lamps, a lamplighter, or leerie, would walk the streets with a ladder and torch, lighting the lights. Stevenson was a sickly kid and would stand at the window at dusk and watch the lamplighter. His father walked in his room one night and saw young Robert at the window. He asked him what he was looking at and Robert said, “I’m watching this man knock holes in the darkness.”
Louis would later write this poem.
The Lamplighter
Robert Louis Stevenson
My tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky;
It’s time to take the window to see Leerie going by;
For every night at teatime and before you take your seat,
With lantern and with ladder he comes posting up the street.
Now Tom would be a driver and Maria go to sea,
And my papa’s a banker and as rich as he can be;
But I, when I am stronger and can choose what I’m to do,
Oh Leerie, I’ll go round at night and light the lamps with you!
For we are very lucky, with a lamp before the door,
And Leerie stops to light it as he lights so many more;
And O! before you hurry by with ladder and with light,
O Leerie, see a little child and nod to him tonight!
Verse can be so illuminating.
A man named John Claypool was an inspiration to me. I heard John speak several times and have read his books. John contended that every human needs two things for emotional and spiritual survival: light and warmth. Light he said is illumination—being able to see something clearly and honestly. Warmth he said is companionship—someone at your side.
Verse can be so illuminating. It can also be warmth.
Read these lyrics from a song by Amos Lee. In fact, read them out loud. Then put on your very best set of headphones and watch Amos sing the song on this YouTube video.
When you cannot get to sleep at night
Taunted by that new daylight
When you just can't sleep before the morn
And you do not feel reborn
Wait up for me
Wait up for me
I'll be coming home
So you don't have to be alone
When you're lost out in this world
And you feel you've come undone
Wait up for me
“I will not leave you as orphans. I am sending a comforter. ”