The Light of Thanksgiving

Last year around this time, a tragic fire changed our lives. It seems only right to me that now, a year later, I process this with you. In one sense with the invasion of a global pandemic, humanity has been plucked from her life and put right down in another universe. It follows that just perhaps, the light of thanksgiving will help you walk forward too, like it did my family, even when the way seems shrouded in uncertainty.

Welcome to my heart, my family, my thanksgiving journey. This is not a sermon or an indirect guilt trip on how to be more thankful. It is merely our story, and it has been a hard one. You have a story too, and I pray ours will encourage you in yours. To read from the beginning, click here.

Even the darkness is not dark to You, and the night is as bright as the day (Psalm 139:12).

Day 2 Burn ICU

Please pray for these sweet feet. They sustained 3rd-degree burns all over. Today’s been rough but our boy is one of the bravest people we’ve ever met.

Prayers answered:

-he has kept a little food down today.

-he has a new feeding tube and it’s smaller, much to his relief.

-his fever has gone down.

-he has had four plasma transfusions today and his kidney function is improving.

-From our Caring Bridge journal, November 8, 2019

Tragedy casts us into darkness.

The evening of the fire, I arrived home after dark to find all the lights on and firemen spilling out of every room as they scurried to control the damage.

Thank you, Jesus, for our firefighters and rescue workers. Thank you that I live in a country where we have firefighters and rescue workers. 

I stood in the darkness of the driveway talking in frantic whispers with kind friends as I tried my best to make decisions that were both instant and wise. I hugged my little girl goodbye in the shadows of the streetlight, reassuring her I’d be there later to kiss her goodnight. (I had no idea at that moment how serious my son’s injuries were.)

Thank You, Jesus, for friends who show up when we need them and do what is needed.

I sped through the darkness to the wrong emergency room, tears streaming down my face as I insisted that my son was there and I had to get to him. I remember the feeling of the receptionist’s hand on mine as he looked me in the eye with compassion and gave me directions to the correct hospital.

Thank you, Jesus, for kindness.

A short time later I reached the right location, running through the gloom of the parking lot to find my son and husband. I burst into the harsh light of the emergency department to discover my husband with a team of physicians huddled around my boy as nurses rushed to do a thousand tasks.

Thank You, Jesus, for emergency departments and all who serve there. Thank You that we live in a country where we have this resource.

I breathlessly asked one, “Will my son be able to go home tonight?” She stopped in her tracks, realization dawning on her face. This mother doesn’t know. Putting her hands on my shoulders and looking me straight in the eyes, she gently said, “Your son is fighting for his life. We are flying him to a burn hospital in another city where he has the best chance of survival.”

Thank You, Jesus, for her courage to tell me the truth.

At that moment, the darkness became spiritual, mental, emotional. I fell into it and saw nothing but black.

Writing these words, processing this part of our thanksgiving journey right now, causes my throat to tense, my chest to constrict, and my eyes to fill with tears. My heart is churning, and I am watching myself fall into the darkness that night. Spinning, head over heart, feet over shoulders, flailing in the massive void that opened beneath me.

But today, 362 days later, I can see something else. All around that mother falling and flailing is a blinding light. I see the Light chasing the darkness, refusing to let it swallow her. I see the Light that no darkness can overcome.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it (John 1:1-5).

This passage from John 1 describes Jesus, the Light of the World. The One who is our light even when the darkness threatens to swallow us. He who is the Light which no darkness can ever overcome.

There is a Light no darkness can overcome. The light of #thanksgiving illuminated our family's darkness, even the darkness of a parent's worst nightmare. #burnsurvivor Share on X

Jesus caught me as I fell that night. And He carried me and my family every single minute that followed. He is, indeed, still carrying us.

Thank You, Jesus, for catching us. For carrying us.

In the hours that followed, I ran to His Word. I was desperate. Searching, hungering, clamoring for a hand-hold. Like so many action movies where the character appears to surely be falling to her death, only to grip the edge of the cliff just before impact, I was saved.

Thank You, Jesus, for Your precious promises in the Bible. Thank You that we live in a country where we can have our own copy of the Bible and read it.

Gratitude became so many finger grips along the side of the cliff. With each one, I climbed higher. As I made the ascent from despair to hope, the light grew. 

Light shines so much brighter in inky blackness!

I remember wondering if I was going mad as I watched the contrast between the darkness of our circumstances and the brilliance of the light.

Does the bird flying over the horizon at sunrise wonder if the earth is self-destructing every morning, the intense shattering of darkness by dazzling light just too much for the earth to bear?

I witnessed the sunrise in our darkness. This is no madness. This is the light of thanksgiving, the power of our Savior to illuminate our darkness and help us see even in the darkest places in life.

@audreycfrank