Inviting Light

It was the dead middle of January and dark outside by 4:30. With the sun down, the air would be frigid in no time. We were covered with snow and more predicted on the way. I was in bed by 7:30 under multiple blankets to try to stop the chills. My temperature felt like it was shooting up, and the pressure in my eyes was excruciating. All I could do was lay there and drink sips through a straw. Somehow moving anything brought on the spinning, so I spent the day drifting in and out. I managed to change scenery and sit elsewhere momentarily, but then it was back to my room, where relief seemed to be waiting. The only escape was to surrender to sleep.

I thought I heard a strange sound near my bedroom door that I had left half open. I opened my eyes, thinking it was one of my dogs trying to figure out what was going on with me. That is when the same peculiar noise came again. Closer. Whispery and constricted, it seemed as if someone was choking. I sat up a little more. I wondered if my daughter heard this. The tv volume in the living room was down low not to disturb me. From my vantage point, I should have been able to see her in the other room. Closer now, the raspy voice drifted to my ears again. A single word finally made sense.


That was all it took for me to be in an upright position. I flipped on the light to investigate. My daughter was in a mid crawl trying to tell me something but pure terror had overtaken her speaking ability.

“What is going on?” I said, trying not to fall over from the dizziness that was coming on quick.

“Someone is on the porch! I saw a face in the window looking in at me.”

She was breathing so fast I could hardly understand her. I wanted this to be a fever dream! The reality of what she just said left me feeling a bit weaker.

One of my underlying concerns was the addition on the back of my house and that someone would come in and be at the sliding glass door. I knew I had some time because I always locked that entry and put a bar across for extra security.

“I was sitting on the couch and felt like someone was there. I turned my head and saw a face. I don’t even know if this is real! It was this pure white face like a ghost!”

I grabbed my phone and stumbled toward the kitchen. Why had I not put up the drapes I should have years ago? I slowly peered around the corner. Sure enough, a wild eyed girl was staring at me through the glass. The lights were off behind her, but I could see her face. Seeing me, she started to knock slowly and pleaded to come in.

I was thinking,…not on your life, sister! I had just read an article about an elderly man nearby who fell for the same scheme. A pathetic looking young woman showed up at his house asking for help, and when he let her in, a man with a gun beat him nearly to death and robbed him.

The little bit of space between her and me was going to stay intact.

“I’m going to get you some help.” I held up my phone to show her that I was trying to assist her. She started rambling.

“Please let me in. They threw me out of the car, they took my phone, and I have nothing but my purse.”

She proceeded to take a small handbag and dump the contents on the floor. She got down on her knees and rummaged through the pile of junk in front of her.

“I’m not going to let you in, but I’m calling for help right now!”

She angrily looked at me and started calling me a bunch of names I won’t repeat. Including who she thought I supported for the President of the United States. Yep, she definitely was not coming in.

“911. What’s your emergency?”

“There’s a person on my porch needing assistance, and she wants to come in. I have been sick today with the flu and was in bed, and I am not sure what is going on with her.”

I described in detail what was unfolding before my unbelieving eyes.

“Are you taking any medications for your illness? Are you hallucinating?”


“No! Really, a person is talking crazy on my porch right now.”

“Okay. We will send someone over.”

I kept my eyes on my surprise guest as she went from sobbing to cursing to laughing hysterically.

“Help is coming,” I said. This brought on another berating of my character and how awful I was.

“You hate people!” She screamed.

By now, my whole house had every light on, and all occupants were fully aware that we had a weird situation going on. I noticed a trickle of sweat come down my face. Adrenaline is your best friend, as all of my symptoms had momentarily disappeared.

Angrily, she stood up, grabbed a stray towel that had been left outside, and wrapped it around her head like a turban. Turning, she made her exit into my backyard and began running through the snowbanks. That’s when I heard car doors slamming near my driveway.

I opened the front door to see three police officers walking up.

“She’s out in the back!” The wind had picked up, and light snow was beginning.

They took off running with their hands on their holsters.

I went to see what was about to take place. Two of them jumped the fence and started chasing her. It looked like they were playing a game of slippery tag. Somehow, one caught up to her, and she seemed to let him willingly.

The other officer came up to the porch. He had a notepad and pen to take down my name and other incidentals. He kept glancing at the front of my shirt.

“We didn’t believe someone was here. We thought you were high on drugs when you called in.”

“Why?” I said, totally taken off guard. “I have the flu and have a fever, and I’m not seeing things.”

I looked down at the gigantic sweat stain that had appeared like I had gone into the shower with my clothes on. Apparently, my fever took this opportunity to break.

“We believe you now. The girl is 16 years old, and from what she said, she was with friends in a car, they stopped and left her here. They took her phone, so she was wandering looking for help. You are the only person who went through all this trouble. She knocked on doors, but no one would help her. There are some pretty heavy substances in her system, so we are taking her into the emergency room for evaluation. Could you unlock one of the gates so we can get her to a safe place?”

I told him I would. I changed out of my drenched shirt and threw on another. My head was buzzing loudly as I stepped into the cold night to get this over. I watched them handcuff her and made her get into the squad car’s backseat. All of her energy seemed to have been spent, and I hoped this would never happen to her again.

As I watched them drive away, I wondered why she had gone through all the trouble of jumping the fence when she could have kept trying doorbells? I walked around to my backyard and looked up toward the porch. Clearly, I could see the kitchen light.

I heard in my mind: She was drawn to your house because of the light.

I looked around at all the other houses, closed up and dark for the night.

Matthew 5:14 says: You are the light of the world.

Isn’t that the point of our existence? Aren’t we here to offer a kind word, a smile, and encouragement to someone who is downcast? The timing of this person’s appearance wasn’t the greatest, but I found the strength to get her into the hands of people offering shelter. We are called not to add to the frigid darkness but to radiate God’s warm, inviting light.

Off My Rocker

Last spring, while taking some time away from work, I began a project that I had put off for a while. Around my home’s perimeter, I have river rock. The weeds were having their way with one particular area, and every time I took out my trash and I was brave enough to peer around the garage, it seemed that a jungle was beginning to grow. All the stones needed removal and new material placed underneath to keep the unwanted foliage down to a minimum.

My first trip was to the dreaded hardware store to pick up the landscaping roll, pins to hold it in place, and buckets. This has never been a favorite outing. During my childhood, I recall visiting many of these places with my dad. He seemed to speak in a foreign language about saws, wrenches, and screws that all had their use. None of it ever made sense to me, and even now, I still struggle to understand what some of the products are on the shelves. Throw in math and measurements, and I zone out.

I gathered up my supplies and started the process of picking up the rocks with gloved hands. I had no idea the labor and time this was going to take, but I kept a clear vision in my mind of a pristine area that no longer brought on a cringe.

At certain times of the day, the sun would go over the house, which provided shade. Despite this, as summer approached, the temperatures began to rise, so I was often drenched in sweat. I would go out of the house fresh and ready to conquer and return weak, dehydrated, and filthy. My reflection in the bathroom mirror always displayed a “dirtstache” over my top lip.

One evening, I decided to go back out after giving it a rest from working earlier in the day. It was cooler, and I wanted to accelerate my progress. My neighbors had friends over for a cookout, and the section I was focusing on was visible from their front porch. Soon, I felt a presence next to me. A little girl smiled and said,

“Can I help?”

While the adults were having cocktails and talking about issues she couldn’t comprehend, she decided that what I was doing looked more attractive.

I caught on quick that boredom had led her over. She didn’t want to lend a hand; she just wanted someone to keep her entertained. I turned on music that she requested, which was followed by humming in between a million questions. Every rock she picked up was examined, and I was asked what it was. Not many made it into the bucket she was given. Instead, she put them back and moved on to another one that caught her eye.

“Do you know how fast I can run?” she asked with her big brown eyes looking at me intently, hoping I was up for the challenge.

“No, I don’t,” I said.

“I will show you!”

And like a flash, she was running toward the backyard. I stopped what I was doing so she could see that I was paying attention to her. I had sympathy as I recalled being her age and stuck in a room full of older people and feeling left out of the conversation.

She ran back to my side, panting uncontrollably.

“This time, can you count?”

“Sure,” I said.

I mean, what would it hurt to do so if it made her night more fun? She got into a runner’s stance showing how serious this was.

“Ready? Set? Go!”

She took off again, and I began to count.

When she returned, her breath came in short gasps.

“I want to run around the whole house. Can you still count while I do that? I want to know how fast I am.”

“Okay,” I said.

It would be easier to keep doing the task I had come out to accomplish with her out of my sight. The rocks were not leaping into the buckets by themselves, and it was going to get dark.

We went through the countdown, and she took off like a shot.

One of the neighbors yelled,

“Chris, you are a sucker! She will have you doing that all night long!”

I put my head back down and grasped a handful of rocks in each hand.

“Nine, ten, eleven, twelve…”

I was shouting numbers at the top of my lungs to be sure she could hear me. When I saw her coming, I slowed way down, and as she pulled up next to me clutching her kneecaps with both hands, straining to breathe, I said randomly,


Once she was able to talk, she said,

“I am going to do it again to see if I can make it back faster. Count slower this time.”

“Okay,” I said with a smile.

It was like cheating on the number of swings you take when you golf.

She got in position to go again, and I began to count so she could hear.

“One, two, three, four…” I yelled out in a happy tone as I dropped more rocks into the bucket.

Suddenly, I felt like I was being watched. I glanced to my left, and an older woman passing by on the sidewalk was frowning at me like I had lost my mind. From where she stood, it appeared that I was counting each rock as I was removing them. The little girl was still on the backside of the house. The lady’s forehead was tight with confusion and concern. At first, I thought of ceasing my count, but the speedrunner was depending on me, so I didn’t want to disappoint.

As she shook her head and rolled her eyes, I counted louder. She moved on quicker when I made eye contact with her.

That is when I started to laugh, and I am sure that solidified the idea that my sanity had slipped away. Things weren’t quite as they appeared.

This can be said for many situations we encounter daily. Do we jump to conclusions or make assumptions based on what we see or hear? Maybe that person across the street with the political sign in their yard that doesn’t line up with your views has a need you can fulfill. But, the sign keeps you away. How about the slow driver who is impeding your progress, is crying their eyes out on the way back from a funeral? What about the long line at the grocery store because the cashier is new and doing the best she can?

We are quick to process a scene without any insight.

As I move along in this life, I am more conscious of that still, drama-free, inner voice that speaks knowledge that cannot be seen with the human eye. For me, this has led to more compassion, grace, and forgiveness.

Tapping into my spirit, I have access to wisdom that keeps me more grounded and less off my rocker.

Psalm 19:14: May these words of my mouth and this meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, Lord, my Rock, and my Redeemer.