Have you heard the phrase, “light at the end of the tunnel?” I recently read this one: “Due to extenuating circumstances, the light at the end of the tunnel has been turned off.” At first, I thought that this was clever – and it is – however, I realize with depression, it can certainly feel that way sometimes.
The enemy puts a blindfold on to block the view, and it takes a lot of effort to get it off.
For anxiety sufferers, the tunnel constricts our view of the Light as the airway constricts when a person has an asthma attack. Nothing can get in, and nothing can make us feel more helpless and alone.
But maybe, just maybe, tunnel vision causes this. Thoughts have a way of blocking the Light and making it seem smaller than it is or telling us that the Light at the end of the tunnel is a train that’s going to run us over. It’s sometimes nearly impossible to control them.
It’s all lies. Yes, that is our view of things. But, whatever the case may be, just because I can’t see the Light, doesn’t mean that it isn’t there. For we walk by faith, not by sight (Second Corinthians 5:7).
So even when we feel hopeless in the middle of some tunnel where it’s dark, and where sometimes we’re even afraid of the Light, we know we must keep walking. Even when the tunnel starts to constrict, keep pushing forward. Even when the Light isn’t visible anymore, keep going. And when it looks like the Light might just run us over – keep on. Wield the Armor of the Spirit and order those lies away.
For the Light is waiting to shine on us, and shine through us. “Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid. Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven” (Matthew 5:14-16).
That’s pretty much where my brain has been today. It has been hard to stay focused on the Light and Who He is. If you read this post from a couple of weeks ago, then you know that life has been hard for me this month.
You may remember this photo from the past. Radar is the one on the left, washing her face. Last night, she became violently ill – and the vet isn’t open that late, so I had to wait until morning. I kept checking on her most of the night. When I checked on her around 1AM, she was already gone. I had no chance to even try to help her, it happened so fast. Here is another photo; she is on the left (and Sketcher is on the right):
Her eyes weren’t always different like that. When she was a kitten, another cat scratched her eye, and she became blind in that eye. She adapted so well, but I always had to keep that in mind because if I approached her on her blind side and then reached to pet her, she would lose her mind because she didn’t see it coming. 😅 I have many fond memories of her losing her mind. Most of the time it happened because I mistook her for Rabbit (Radar’s mother). Without seeing the face, they looked almost identical.
Now they are both gone, within a couple of weeks of each other.
Radar would have been eight this spring.
I may not be as active online the next few days while I try to put my heart back together. Love you guys! ❤