A Solitary Light

March 5, 2020

Our eldest grandson turns 16 today. His birth is etched into my mind in a special way because it was the single bright beacon in a world that for me was getting darker by the hour. For a solid month, I had been dealing with a situation at church that was ticklish and tender. Someone was upset with me; she told me to my face that I hadn’t given her the recognition she deserved for all she had done. She was right, as far as she went. In my naïveté, I had somehow overlooked the Scripture that said that was the reason we served God, and I had missed the cues of her dissatisfaction. 

She and her husband were part of our dinner group, along with three other couples. Our monthly gathering was scheduled for that Friday night, but Linda and I were in Rochester awaiting Ian’s birth. It was a wonderful, joy-filled evening for us. Not so much for our friends Harry and Beth, who caught the brunt of this woman’s anger when they refused to agree with her. Linda and I are forever indebted to our friends who were put through the wringer that evening, but who remained loyal and never flinched nor complained about the mistreatment they endured.

We tried mending fences, but they were irreparably torn, and the church entered dark and difficult months as the campaign of whispering erupted into open warfare. There are many stories I’ll probably never tell except to say, “God provided.” After one contentious meeting, I told the District Superintendent that since things fell apart on my watch, instead of asking for a transfer to a different church, I wanted the opportunity to try to put things back together. I am continually grateful to have been given that opportunity, and that ten years later I was able to turn over to my successor a healthy congregation.

Those years marked by my grandson’s birth were difficult, but made easier by the gift of new life we welcomed into our family that night. Much like the pain of childbirth is swallowed up in the joy of new life, the pain and trauma of those days are long gone. The church is strong today, and our grandson has grown into a handsome, intelligent, and compassionate young man of whom we are very proud. The darkness has long since given way, and today we enjoy the light of his presence with us. Happy birthday, Ian! I’m ready when you are for your stick shift driving lessons.