Carried Home

By: Gabriela Yareliz

Recently, my fiancé (yes– you read that right!) and I were driving back from a farm outside of the city. Taconic State Parkway, y’all. Unwillingly crawling our way back into Gotham City. It was late, and it’s a dark highway. The only thing illuminating those narrow, dark winding roads was the occasional oncoming and flow traffic. When no one else was around, we were submerged in utter darkness. I would look into my side mirror to what was behind us, and it was a black hole abyss. We were driving on those roads like a blind man groping his way out.

These have been unmistakably strange and dark times. We treat those who don’t think like us as enemies, and we will sacrifice the livelihood of others for our own arrogance and illusion of safety. Logic has been kidnapped. We are led by cowards and informed by the corrupt (and I mean this on a global scale). For those of us who diligently study Scripture and prophecy, it has been a time of a lot of reflection. I heard recently, that knowledge without preparation and action around that knowledge is worth very little. It’s common sense, but few of us live in that way, truly.

When we see how things evolve, how quickly people are deceived and swept away in participating in behaviors and thought patterns based on their comforts, conveniences and fears– it’s alarming. It should cause us to look at ourselves. This ain’t nothing, yet, as they say. So this brings us to questions of introspection like, Am I ready for what is to come? Do I have the integrity to stand for something, though the heavens fall? What does it mean to listen to the conscience rather than to a fellow man?

I think we look at heroes of the past, and we glorify and romanticize their stories, failing to realize how hated they were, how ostracized they were, and how many of them became martyrs. We don’t understand that people were arrested, beaten, hosed down– people were killed for what they believed in. And in many places, they still are. We like the ideas of integrity, strength and ideals of freedom and respect but are often not willing to pay the price to keep or protect them.

Highways and country roads without lights are a thing. And let me tell you, in the fall and winter, it gets dark faster, yes, the days are shorter, but we also experience a whole different level of darkness in these colder seasons. The nights are not only longer, but they feel darker. Much darker. I was discussing this with my grandfather. He was telling me that on his long commute, he takes these dark, “wolf’s mouth” roads. He told me that despite having taken this route for years on end, the darkness can still feel disorienting. There are times where he isn’t sure if he is still going the right way. He told me that when he doubts, he tries to think of how it worked out in the past. His gut reassures him.

I think life can feel this way when it’s dark. I think we are all experiencing some kind of a dark fall and winter, whether we realize it or not. Some of us are very aware, while others proceed with an unease and dread, numbed by distraction. It feels like we are speeding through a dark road where we can’t even see two feet in front of us and what lies behind us looks like an abyss.

A car has its own lights, and even that can start to feel dull after awhile. What helps is when other cars with their own lights come and unite on the journey. More clarity comes.

My grandfather told me something interesting. You see, I told him I was sure winter was even more hellish, with all of the moist and glistening lake effect MI snow. He told me it was the opposite. This surprised me. He told me that on a winter night, when there was snow coating the ground, there was light everywhere. The snow acts as a reflector of the moon, if there is one, and all other minor lights around. He said that when it snows, a car with no lights could conceivably make it home okay because of the amplified brightness.

So, on an even darker night than a fall night, if there is a blanket of snow and the accompanying dormant silence of nature, all is bright to see. This reminded me that on the darkest of all nights, we can still find an abundance of light.

Sometimes, it takes utterly and completely dark moments to give us the clarity we need. On a night that may be filled with the impossibility that sometimes looks like feet of snow, the path can be revealed. We are no longer groping our way home but instead we are carried home by the light.

Published by Gabriela Yareliz

Gabriela is a writer, editor and attorney. She loves the art of storytelling, and she is based in NYC.

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