Reflection - Darkness that nurtures

Darkness and light are both important in the rhythm of our lives.

Every year without fail, in the cold dark days of January in Ireland, or August in Australia/New Zealand, a quiet miracle takes place. In gardens, at the foot of tall trees or in forgotten corners, a small white flower emerges from the hard and often frozen earth. Like a secret long hidden in the dark, the snowdrop emerges without fuss or fanfare; a little white flower whose presence in these wintry days draws an ‘Aah’ from even the bleakest soul.

Shortly afterwards the crocus comes, then daffodils, narcissi and all the wonderful flowers of spring. But it is the little snowdrop that first breaches the bleakness, that gently and silently hints at something or someone beyond the deepest darkness. ‘I shall give you treasures from dark vaults, and hoards from secret places...’ (Isa 45:3).

Who would have thought so delicate and seemingly frail a flower, with her bowed head on so slender a stem could withstand the cold of January? Who could have imagined that the darkness held so precious a treasure?

Life grows in darkness. Hidden in the silent earth, seeds and bulbs are nurtured until the day comes when they emerge into the light. We too need darkness in our soul-making journey through life. There are treasures hidden in our hearts, treasures we ourselves do not know, though we may sometimes get a glimpse of the riches within. More often we bemoan the dark, lash out against our painful and unwanted circumstances, and ignore the little shoots climbing to the light.

The nurturing power of darkness is a great gift from God. But how hard it is for us to believe this! How difficult to wait with patience, with acceptance, for the creative power of God to bring us through. ‘On those who lived in a land as dark as death, a light has dawned’ (Isa 9:2).

Seasons of growth take time. No one becomes fully human in an instant. ‘In calm detachment lies your safety, you strength in quiet trust’ (Isa 30:15). We do not lose hope in the darkness, nor do we give up the struggle. We trust as we reach out to, and work with, our compassionate Creator and Father. We can be certain that, no matter how terrible our lives may seem, He will, in His own time, fill us with light. Then our life, like the snowdrop, will reflect something of His beauty.

Sr Redempta Twomey is assistant editor of the Far East at St Columban’s , Navan, Ireland.



Read more from The Far East, July 2011