March 11, Qom.
I have just returned to the hotel. The others have gone out—the lights are off, the room is dim. My only company is the soft breeze drifting through the window. I have spent the better part of the morning grappling with the trellises of my soul. My brain is tired. My heart, heavy. It feels like the perfect time for a nap.
I drop my bag and head to the bathroom to wash my hands. My mind wanders as I watch the soap turn from liquid to lather, silky streams swirling down the drain. As I turn to dry my hands, I pause, confused. An unmistakable golden flicker seeps through the doorway. But I didn’t hear anyone come in…and I don’t remember turning on the lights.
Cautious, I step back into the room—and a laugh escapes my lips. Four walls, moments before cast in shadow, are set ablaze by the glow of the sun.
الله الله الله
For a long time afterwards, I sit in front of the window, all thoughts of sleep erased. I wonder at the beauty of the Lord who, even in what seem to be the most ordinary moments, reveals Himself to us in extraordinary ways. Who, despite the multitude of His creation, sends us signs, speaking to each of us as if we were with Him, utterly alone.
Signs which seem to say: there will be seasons in your life when each day rises overcast and gray. When winds howl, mists blind, floods relentlessly pour. But do not lose hope. Because one day, just when it seems as if the sun will never stream again—a break will appear on the horizon. And the storm which once seemed like it would never end, will suddenly disappear.
As I gaze upon the golden light streaming through the window, as I listen to the golden sounds floating through the air, I am filled with gratitude for this reminder: that the One whose Hand has fashioned the storm is its dispeller too. And it is His will that no shadow lasts forever.
One day, the skies of your life will clear. The sun of your soul will stream. And, like the walls of this once-darkened room, your heart will blaze with warmth once more.
And when it does, it will be hard to believe that you ever lay, covered as you were by rain.
Because now, you rise. You burn. You glow.
Drenched in golden light.