My
Hope In The Shadows
Sitting here at my computer and staring
out the window, I ponder how it is an unusually overcast and gloomy day for
late March. Outside, the wind blows noisily through the trees, stirring up a
chill that permeates the spring air and causes me to release an involuntary
shiver from within. Belatedly, I realize that I have left the bedroom window
cracked open, and now the whistling wind rushing through has brought with it a
coldness that begins to fill the room.
Oftentimes
when I become distracted, my mind tends to drift away and carry me to a faraway
place somewhere in my past. Although there are quite a few moments in my past
that I repressed for many years, there are still many that I remember quite
fondly. It is these moments that come flooding back during idle daydreams,
bringing a warm touch to fill my being. Indeed, they bring a smile to my face
as I vicariously relive them through my memory. The gloomy chill that fills the
air on this cold Saturday slowly gives way to a warm summery day as I sit and
let my mind carry me to another time.
I
often like to tell people that as a child and adolescent of the 80s and 90s, I grew
up in a world that was simultaneously analog and digital. As a kid growing up
in rural Mississippi in the late 80s and early 90s, electronic objects to
occupy our time were far and few in between; in fact, they were virtually
non-existent in my household. As a result, my younger brother and I were often
left to our own devices in the summertime, and it was up to us to create our
own forms of entertainment. Although we grew up in a small rural town and lived
part of those years in the remote countryside, I do not recall us ever being
bored. Whether it was having mud-track races behind the shed with our toy cars,
fishing in the pond, or zipping through the pasture in our two-seater go-cart
in search of our next adventure, we were never bored. One of our favorite
pastimes, and a real summertime treat to us, was going to one of three local
creeks for an adventure day. Within the wide banks of these creeks, the noisy waters
flowed swiftly and created a wonderful backdrop for many summertime adventures.
My brother and I were both accomplished swimmers, and the creeks were not big
enough to ever permit a fear of drowning to enter our minds.
Our
favorite creek was the beautiful White Sand Creek just down the road from our
home. We could literally walk to it from our house and for two young
Mississippi boys, it might as well have been heaven. This magical place was the
setting for many a summer adventure; in this place, the waters flowed swift and
clear, and the beautiful white sand bars felt like a fiery powder under our
feet as we ran across them chasing each other. We spent our time alternately splashing
around in the water and then searching for treasures such as pieces of driftwood
or unusual rocks that we would find lining the banks of the creek. We delighted
in digging crawdads out of their holes. If we were lucky, we might spot a frog
or perhaps a turtle or two sunning itself on a log. Attempts to catch the
turtles were usually futile, as the elusive reptiles seemed to have an inherent
sense of our presence and jump into the water before we could reach them. There
were times when we would engage in games of hide and seek as we hid in the bushes
that lined one bank of the creek. Other times we would float on our backs and
see how far the current would carry us downstream before mother began to holler
at us and tell us to come back. Sometimes, we would simply sit at the water’s
edge in a shallow pool of water and watch the water as it ebbed and flowed around
our bodies. We had moments where we would roughhouse, as young brothers are
often apt to do, taking turns dunking each other in the water. I remember
sometimes just simply sitting there on the banks of the creek, basking in the
warm summer sun as I watched the waters flow by.
Even
as a kid, I had a very active imagination, and I was often prone to daydreaming
(which sometimes happened at the most inopportune times such as during lessons
at school). One day, I noticed how at times, the clouds would cross the sun's
path, creating dancing shadows that would dart across the landscape. On one
side of the creek, was a large forest that seemed scary to my young self. It
was filled with bushes and giant hardwood trees that towered as high as the
heavens. On the other side of the creek was a broad meadow of Technicolor green
filled with cows who would briefly pause their grazing to look up and watch us
as we swam in the creek. I loved to watch the shadows move across the meadow,
and I took notice of the various shapes and patterns they would make.
Sometimes, the clouds would come and the shadows would stay in place, signaling
an impending summer storm looming on the horizon. When the clouds covered the
landscape, they brought with them, temporary relief from the blazing summer
sun. The air would get cooler, and the swiftly flowing waters would for a
moment in time, seem darker and scarier. The cool waters that we had played in
only moments before suddenly became a bottomless pit of eternal inky depths. Eventually,
the clouds would part and I would turn my face to the sky, embracing the return
of the sun’s warmth.
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| Young Pip, following Estella in Great Expectations (1946) |
Life
is full of light and shadows. Ever since those early days of my childhood, I
have been continually fascinated with the shapes, sizes, and movements of
shadows. Sometimes, when the opportunity presents itself, I enjoy sitting
outside as I watch the shadows dance their perfectly choreographed dance
routine, dancing and fading in and out, synchronized to a mysterious number
known only to nature. Part of this fascination is what led me to write a
Master’s thesis on David Lean’s use of light and shadow in his film adaptations
of Dickens’ Great Expectations (1946)
and Oliver Twist (1948). One of my
all-time favorite books is Great
Expectations, and Lean’s ending
deviated significantly from that of Dickens’; this was done in order to give
viewers a happier ending. In Lean’s adaptation, Pip rushes into the interior of
a ruined mansion to rescue his childhood sweetheart, Estella. In this ruined
place, Estella sits in the darkness surrounded by objects in various states of
decay. In what I believe is one of the most memorable moments in post-World War
II British cinematography, Pip rushes into the room, yanks down the rotted
draperies and throws open the windows. He shouts out to Estella, “I have come
back to let in the sunlight…. Look, Estella, nothing here but dust and decay!”
Pip was aware that nothing can live or thrive in the darkness of night. As he
threw open the windows to let in the sunlight, he symbolically saved Estella
from the shadows that cloaked her life.
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| I have come to let in the light, Estella! |
Sometimes
in our own lives, shadows come and cast darkness over every aspect of our
lives. Sometimes, these shadows are only temporary, and they quickly pass by as
they did across the pastoral landscape on those long-ago summer days. Other
times, the shadows come, sink in, and begin to weave themselves into the
tapestry of our lives. When this happens over a period of time, we may not even
be aware of how faintly the diminished
and filtered light illuminates our lives. Just a few short years after those
summer days at the creek, I would begin to get lost in my own shadows. These
shadows would follow me around for many years and would keep me from walking in
the light that I so desperately needed to be walking in during my formative and
adolescent years. I lost my way for a very long time. Finding the Samson
Society nearly 5 ½ years ago marked the beginning of my being able to emerge
from my own shadows. To be able to walk forward with boldness and courage in my
life. To allow the light back into my life as I ripped down my own rotted
draperies. To admit my great, and continual need for other men who would walk
with me and keep me from making a wrong turn that would ultimately lead back
into the shadows. Men who would also call me out and point me back to the cross
of Christ.
We’re
living in uncertain times right now. All we need do is turn on the news and we
feel that there is a metaphorical shadow covering our world right now. We can’t
let these shadows of doubt fill our lives and take root. In my own life, living
in the shadows led to hopelessness and despair and could have very well been
fatal. I don’t know what kind of things or repressed thoughts hide in your own
shadows, but I do know that nothing can grow or thrive in that space. Fortunately,
with Samson, we have the gift of a lifeline given to us; it is crucial that we
continue walking alongside other brothers and with them, stand in the light
that Christ gives us. It is so easy for me to retreat into my own shadows, and
that place, my brothers, is a dangerous place for me to be. In darkness, it is
impossible to see the roadmap of where we are going, and it is so easy to take
a wrong turn. We have hope in the shadows, and the promise of light that shows
us the way.
We
recently learned a new song in church a few months ago. Our music director
instructed us that when we sang the chorus, we should lift our hands up
whenever we sang the words that proclaimed what Christ meant in our lives. And
as I proclaimed the words “you’re my hope in the shadows…”, I
gratefully lifted my hands in the air.
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| You're my HOPE in the Shadows!! |
Some
time ago, I was travelling on a day trip with my family and passed through the
town of my childhood; this town is a place that I avoided for many years and no
longer claim a connection to. And as we passed by the place where a part of me
had remained lost in the shadows for many years, I caught a glimpse of my eleven-year-old
self hidden where he had been left behind all those years ago. Silently, I
called out to him…. “It’s going to be ok.” It will take many years, but you
will eventually be ok. And for the most part, I am. The shadows still come,
dancing their mysterious number across the landscape of my life before
dissolving away. But today I have hope. I always have hope in the shadows. And
you do too.
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| Many years later, my son looking down at White Sand Creek, Circa 2018. |
