What an early morning gift!
I'm on more common ground with Nicole's thoughts today, and they immediately reminded me of this:
Now whether one thinks the light 'shines through' or 'gets in' (I suspect it does both - most Truth is 'both/and' rather than 'either/or'), the point is the same - our weaknesses, our cracks, are often where true strength lies.
I am reminded of the very first service I took here in the village church back in May - the first time I'd sat (I can't stand for long nowadays) at the front and lead Celtic Prayer for over 10 years - it was truly overwhelming, and I cracked a few times but managed to pull it back, and carry on. But when I'd finished, the floodgates opened and I sobbed...
A couple, whom I didn't know, from another village, came over and comforted me. The chap whispered in my ear that as I led the service, a shaft of sunlight was shining over my shoulder, 'It was so beautiful, such a blessing'. I've no idea whether he was referring to the sunlight, or the service, but it didn't matter - he was blessed, we all were blessed - it was a very beautiful May morning.
I'm glad I'm mindful of this today as tomorrow, at 10am in Lincoln Cathedral, I'll be relicensed as a Reader (a lay minister) in the Anglican Church. I truly cannot believe it! At this very time 10 years ago, I was home, out of hospital after almost 4 months, but still receiving regular physiotherapy to help me stand, and walk, and get used to the sensory overload that assaulted my brain - the kids, the TV, the lights, the noise...
Really, it seems impossible, but it is true. And tomorrow I, who 10 years ago lost speech, movement in half my body, and the ability to read and write, will stand in this awe-inspiring building, and read aloud one of the Bible passages. I confess I am terrified, but what an honour, it will be something I'll never forget! And if my voice cracks (which it may well do), I trust the Light will still shine.