Sunday 28 November 1999

Pic of the day: Even so, you may still curse the darkness.

Today, my heart goes out to Al Schroeder, fellow journal writer, who suddenly and without warning lost his firstborn son, a life-loving teenager. Death is always a terrible loss, even when it comes through the slow descent of old age. How much more when it strikes like lightning, taking away what you loved more than yourself. The ultimate test of faith, perhaps. Well Al is a Christian too, but I hold that we all in some way have faith. If not in a god, then still we have found or search to find something that gives life meaning, that justifies the pain, that makes it worthwhile to endure when darkness falls.

Despite his vivid descriptions, I am aware that I only know the Schroeder family through a glass, darkly. I am not a "real life" friend, though it's not quite like the relationship people have with weather girls either. Months of reading daily Nova Notes makes me feel that I know the family in some ways better than I know many of my coworkers and, for that matter, fairly close relatives. Yet there is nothing I can do but pray.

The part of Norway where I live, is far south of the Polar Circle. Just like we do not have true midnight sun, we do not have the long night either. Though on some days like today, the difference is not so pronounced. A rainy day, the daylight allowed me to see a few scattered brown leaves still hanging on to the rain-drenched, wind-shaken trees. And then the darkness fell again, leaving me enclosed in my little world of artificial light, the darkness against my windows becoming a mirror of what's inside.

Once, years ago, I was at a large Christian youth meeting. The locale was big, the acoustics were good. It was late, it was dark outside. And suddenly there was a power failure or something, and the place was plunged into darkness. It only lasted briefly, but during those moments, most were utterly still. A few screamed ... and a few laughed.

From that I learned more than I did from the entire meeting.

It may sound strange now; but there was once a time in my life, years ago, when I felt that I was walking in the dark. No, more than that: I felt like I was walking through the dark night along a road in which the cars were always coming the other way, their headlights blinding me again and again but never showing me anything worthwhile. Light darker than night.

Things did not change. But finally I did. Yet today I am glad that I had that experience. Without it, I fear I would be less human today than I am.

Today's layout change is not permanent.