I may have avoided every math class possible in college but I do know this equation:

2 year old + new baby sibling + new unkown surroundings = no sleep for Daddy.

When we found out that a 2nd child was on the way, we jokingly put up an eviction notice on the nursery room door for our son Joshua. As the belly got bigger and the due date got closer, the laughing stopped and we might be in trouble.

Instead of being just outside our bedroom door, he was across the house. And instead of his window being just under a street lamp, it was dark after sundown.

We were sure that darkness would be a problem so I went out and bought a new night light. I rushed home to plug it in (in the middle of the day) and that night I realized that buying a night light on clearance has consequences.  This thing doesn’t put out a lot of light. The room is still full of scary shadows but now there’s an orange glow across from his bed.

I was sure that we’d have to find a replacement.

But then he slept through the night just fine. And the next night. And the next.

I snuck a peak at him recently and saw him sleeping peacefully but his little frame was bunched in the corner of the bed where he could see the night light through a gap in the side rail. And that’s when it hit me…

He was able to rest just knowing the light was there. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t showing him everything in the room; he could sleep easy in the shadows because he was looking to the light.

I felt a little silly because I can’t do the same in my soul.

Spirtually speaking, I’d much rather have a powerful night light that scares away the shadows of life and lets me see all my surroundings. I want to be able to know where the threats are and – even better – where they aren’t so I can rest easy. But that’s not how things work around here…

In the book of Exodus (the story of the Israelites fleeing Egypt) it says God went ahead of them as a fire by night to guide them on their journey. A lot of times we find ourselves in the “dark night of the soul” and the shadows seem to overtake us. If you’re in one of those times I’d like to tell you a couple of things:

1. Most likely I’ll be there soon too so save a seat at the sadness table for me.
2. Cling to the small glow of dawn. It’s faint and it feels weak but it’s not. The darkness will fade but God’s love endures. Turn your face to it and let it guide you.

Tonight I am looking at my son and hoping that I can learn from him how to sleep in the shadows.