Compel me to know your ways, O Love; instruct me upon your paths. Lead me in your truth, and teach me, for through you I will know wholeness; I shall reflect your Light both day and night. -Psalm 25

I paused here this morning while praying., considering the reflection of Light…Light offered and Light received and its different mediums…

I brought the psalm to community prayer and asked about the when/how of receiving and reflecting light of late. One person spoke of discernment and of people who had helped her over the years and how they provided light which she now shares with those who come to her for help discerning; someone else spoke of the light of Mary Magdalene and how her light that she knew and radiated helps in the darkness of world and ecclesial realities now.

And me? I talked about fireflies…the little glimpses in mundane guises that I both receive and offer…offer without even knowing it, most of the time. And somehow, that seems best to me. When I do glimpse the offering as well as the receiving, it’s humbly astounding, really.

My mind and heart went to simple, gently, briefly and memorably luminous stories that have come my way of late… The student from a local university who was thrilled to receive my random-stranger message via social media that her I.D and bus pass had appeared on the sidewalk outside where I live; the Centre guest I ran into blocks away who needed help sorting out the parking meter machine and who followed that with an invitation to dinner because she had Had a Day–which was so incredibly kind even though I had to decline because of other commitments; the person at the contemplative service at Saint Andrew’s who consistently chooses the row just behind me and a seat or two over and with whom I have exchanged but a few short sentences–they seem to find my company peacefully agreeable and I’m quietly grateful; the single bird on a high bare branch who was singing out in full glorious proclamation; the person who called to commission a poem/prayer for an occasion; the person who wanted to have tea and a “soul talk” about writing; the guy dancing to music while he walked down the street with headphones on…

Glory, I will never tire of these sorts of firefly stories…And God will never cease to amaze me.

Light finds Like

I keep company with fireflies
more often than with bonfires.
Their light is no less brilliant in the night
and these bits of winged stardust,
they sometimes ride within a fold,
pocket, crease, or cuff
only to surprise me once again
with their silent pulsing:
remember; know;
hidden; revelation;
notice; learn; 
We found you—we
recognized you—
light finds like.

Kimberly M. King