Learning to Drive in the Dark

It was the night of the Harvest Moon.  You know, those times when the moon rises big with a yellowish glow and mellows out to a full bright white extra large orb in the sky? Yes, it was one of those nights.  We were driving to Savannah and I was oddly at peace, reflecting on a year of learning to drive in the dark. 

You see, I’m not a fan of driving in the dark.  Especially not long distances.  I never really felt comfortable getting in my car in the dark, and driving through the dark, to arrive where I couldn’t see and examine that everything was safe - because it was dark.  I really liked to be safe - I liked the daytime - I love the light.  But the prior year had taught me a lot about the darkness and how sometimes you just have to move forward even when you’re moving forward in the dark.

I think it started when my mom insisted that we drive thorough the Pocono Mountains at 11 o’clock one night.  We had traveled all day from Atlanta, Georgia to Pennsylvania, driven across the state, finally settled in our hotel and then she said, “I’m not going to be satisfied until we go to her house tonight.”  So me and my tired self, prepared to drive another 45 minutes to visit my dear 90 year-old aunt.

It may not have been so bad, except it was two hours later and pitch dark when we left.  My nerves were on edge to say the least. I was not only about to drive in the dark, I was about to drive somewhere I’ve never been in the dark and visit my aunt who I had not seen in nearly 20 years. I loved her, but I was thinking surely this could wait until the morning. But on the other hand, I understood how my mom felt. We had already come a long way and I couldn’t have taken it if something had happened that night losing the chance to see her again. So, I buckled up my nerve and settled in for the drive. 

As we drove away from the hotel, the silhouette of the mountains rose in the distance, and majestic pine trees towered over the highway.  Did I say that it was dark outside? Pitch black. No street lights.  Boogeyman’s out there kind of dark. I can only see what’s around me when a car goes in the opposite direction - dark. Just darkness all around. 

When we arrived at my aunt’s house they were still awake and excited to see us. We hung out a few hours and suddenly my mom became aware of the time. She quickly arose and said “It’s time to go.”  

Now, it was that super late, super scary, no one's coming to rescue you at that time of night kind of dark.  And then, it began to rain, and rain, and rain. Buckets of rain fell on the car.  Thunder. Lightning. Windshield wipers not fast enough - rain. Darkness. Rain. Scary mountains. Unknown places. Driving with my mom whose anxiety level is rising as well. It was that kind of darkness, rain, and I have to admit, I felt a twinge of panic.

Yet we drove on. I had no choice but to focus and drive - especially after I missed that first turn that set us back a good 10 minutes. But we made it. I swallowed my emotions, got us safely in the hotel room and vowed never to do that again.  

That was until I started working with a new client where I had a two hour commute.  Daylight savings time, plus the demands of the day had me leaving one evening much later than I wanted to - smack dab back in the dark again. This time it was also raining.  Lightning was everywhere.  Cars were driving crazy across the slick roads of I-75. I was somewhere between the urban lights of Atlanta and the mountains of North Georgia. I wondered if I would make it home safely.  

But it was my impromptu trip to Savannah with my husband that helped me see how beautiful a journey through the darkness can be. We’d just dropped off the kids at my mom's house and we found ourselves driving through the backwoods of Georgia. I was praying we’d make it to the highway before nightfall, but it didn’t happen and there I was driving in the darkness again.  

But this time was different. The moon - full, beautiful, orange and bright - rose to my left and began to lift the color of the night sky with the brightness of its beams. As the color mellowed into a bright yellow-white glow, it was there that I could see its reflection bouncing off ponds and fields. Its beams were glistening through the trees. It was so clear and so beautiful. I couldn’t wait to get to our beachfront room and view all that was displayed in the awe-inspiring dark night sky. 

We arrived at the hotel and checked into our oceanfront room. I was no longer driving, but just standing on the balcony staring into the starry moonlit night. Hearing the waves crash upon the shore.  My heart began to reflect on all that had happened in that year - the good, the bad, and the ugly.  I began to appreciate that much like the light of the Sun reflects off the moon, the light of my Heavenly Father was reflecting in my soul. He kept me sane and secure and taught me how to drive physically and spiritually in the darkness of everything that was happening around me. 

The journeys of that year had felt much like driving in the dark. The loss of loved ones. A difficult recovery from a car accident. Struggling to sell a house that was financially upside-down. Taking an undesired but much needed sabbatical. Successful and not so successful contract negotiations. Expanded service opportunities. And dipping my toe into the stay-at-home mom world over the summer.  

It was all challenging, difficult, and yet beautiful in its own way. It was a time where I had figuratively learned to “drive” in the darkness. A time when God showed me how to move forward, shaped my character, shook off unnecessary baggage, and taught me to trust Him. Through all those journeys I could only see the step that was right in front of me. I had to trust that the next step would appear each time I lifted my foot. 

God knew His plans for me, but all I knew was His Word that prompted me to follow Him. In that trust I learned to get in the car and just drive - even when it was dark outside.    

As I stood there listening to the waves. I felt a sense of peace that I’d been longing for - one where I could let it all wash away. And so I celebrated it all - the good, the bad, the scary, the difficulties, the triumphs - times where I learned to drive successfully in the dark.  

The thing about darkness is that it comes every day. Just like clockwork, we will experience the night after the day. I know that it’s dark right now for a lot of people and many are not sure how they are going to make it to the next day. Be encouraged, God is not far from our heartbreaks. He knows what we’re going through and He will be there through it all. Trust and know that He will see you through.