Light, 31.8.18

I went camping this summer, in Dorset with my eldest, Miriam and my youngest, Silas.  We pitched camp in our usual busy field a couple of miles outside Swanage, but then on our way to town for fish and chips, we passed a beautiful, empty, wide-open site, and our heads were turned.

So back we went, took down the tents down, loaded up the car and set off again.  And the car died.  No coughing, no spluttering, just dead right there in the lane. A friendly farmer in a pickup tried to jumpstart us but to zero effect.

So we hauled the tents back out of the car and prepared for the walk of shame back onto the campsite, but then the farmer returned with farm-size jump leads, and the car leapt miraculously into life.

So off we trotted again, and camped again.  And one by one the tentpoles broke.

By the time I’d fixed the poles with the torn-off handles of a carrier bag (true), we were too late for fish and chips.  And when we finally got to Swanage, the car broke down again.

And then it all got a bit sweary.  We ate a nasty sandwich in the dark on the beach. It was bleak.

There’s a Psalm in the Bible that addresses God and says: ’Surely the darkness will hide me and the light will become night around me’.  My holiday had become like night around me.

And yet.  As if by magic, a kindly family appeared like angels, gathered us up and drove us the three miles back up the hill to the campsite. Next morning I found Gary the Garage Guy who cheerfully fixed the car.  And for two days we walked and swam and played backgammon in the Square and Compasses pub.

The next line in that Psalm is, ‘even the darkness will not be dark to you; for darkness is as light to you’.  Christians believe that there’s nothing too dark, miserable or even just too ridiculously annoying, for God to shine a light on.

Now that’s not to suggest that there will always be a happy ending.  But I don’t think that the darkness will always be dark. I don’t think the night is forever.  And I reckon that the light is often closer than we think; sometimes, in the kindness of strangers.

The Isle of Purbeck is one of the best parts of England for camping and coast walking. And also for stone, as it happens.

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