One thing I love about living in the country is that my nights here are so quiet and undisturbed except for the sounds of nature. After every one is asleep and all my chores are done, I step outside to finally pause and breathe in the fresh country air. Last night, that moment came at 10:30 pm. When the crescent moon adorns the night sky, my backyard is so dark. All I see is the silhouette of the backyard trees and it can be quite eerie on some windy nights. Especially so, when I know there are foxes, coyotes, snakes lurking around looking for some food for the night.
Last night, the air was so cool and I could sense that autumn is not far. Although I love the silence of the night, it can be quite lonesome and scary when there’s so much fear in my heart. When I looked up at the vast empty dark sky last night, I felt as if I was a sole living person in the universe without anyone to respond to my silent cry. It is from my learned fear from childhood and the collective traumatic experiences of my sad, lonely nights when I was fresh to this country -back then, I really didn’t have anyone to respond to my crisis in the entire continent of North America, unless I called 911, that is. Things are different now. I am overcoming my past painful memories so deeply ingrained in my psyche. I know this process of healing will take time and I know that I will get better day by day. But most of all, I now know that even when I feel as if I am alone in this wild, vast, and sometimes fearful world, I am not alone. God is there. In the night, in the day, in the waking hours, and even in the sleep. He is always there.
So last night, standing in the ending summer night in the dark alone, I prayed. I prayed, not like the way I used to do when I was a child looking at the moon in tears. I prayed, I talked, to the one that I knew was listening, about my fears, my anxieties, my uncertainties, and my concerns. And just knowing that He was listening to every word I had to say to Him, counting every single drop of tears from my fearful eyes, was enough. My sadness turned into joy by the end of my quiet prayerful moment in the dark country night, and I felt so alive and real, because in that moment alone at night outside, I didn’t have to be anyone else, other than the broken child that only God could heal.