When the Homily is about Immunology

Darkness

For some reason it hit me like a ton of briks this morning. As I walked out the front door, I suddenly realized I had no means of seeing my way to the farm truck I was to drive to the Park and Ride. Utter blackness waiting for me to jump in...almost menacingly, it told me to get a flashlight. Just another line in a sad litany announcing Fall's imminent arrival.

For things done and left undone, I feel as if the summer has lept clear over us and headed south as the sun begins its ever closing embrace of the southern horizon; to me it seems a million years from now before it will begin a new ascent. I had thought my three weeks in Ugandan had led me to feel this way, but everyone who has remained here for the duration seems to agree that we never had much of a summer. Global warming enthusiasts will have to redouble their efforts in telling us that actual temperatures from day to day....well you know.

Much remains to be done and we have recently decided that satellite television had become too much of an distraction to us and so we have given it a proper burial. Who knows, maybe I will pray more, do a little needed work around the house in the evenings, or even perhaps finish that eternally undone novel of mine. I feel a little depressed knowing that in a matter of weeks I will only see my farm in daylight on the weekends.

Ancient analogies of dark and light, whether religious in nature or mere remnants of times when we were once more readily made nocturnal prey, rings so true to me now. God grant we do not have another winter like the last one. But we are ready...it's part of the adventure I suppose...man vs. nature and all.

Hey, now I feel a little excited. Bring it on! Keep the candles lit.