The night sky

It’s a hot and dusty night on a balcony in Palm Springs. Kevin is putting the big kids to bed and I’m sipping chilled wine, the sides of the glass slippery with condensation. The baby monitor hums quietly beside me, but for how long, I’m not sure.

In the distance are the mountains. I know they’re there.  I saw them earlier today, watched the sun set behind them this evening.  Their massive shapes, devoid of any trees and jagged with black rocks, flanked my view a full 180 degrees. Strong and unyielding, like they’ve got nothing to prove.  They just are, standing firm in the distance.

In the dark of the night, though, I doubt myself. Those mountains could be anywhere, or nowhere at all. It’s difficult to remember sometimes, how things look in the daytime, how things actually are.

I struggle to find the goodness and beauty and truth in our night-swathed world, too. It’s so dark everywhere, from politics to persecutions, from near to far. Lately, I find myself reading the news and wondering, why does no one else see that it’s night? Why is no one else suffocating? 

I slip on my flip flops and grab my key card.  I head past the families turning in for the night, and the drunken revelers that remind me so much of years gone by, and I step out into the dark.  Away from the harsh light of the screens and the CFL bulbs, I move out.  Across the street.  A few steps into a dusty field, measuring my steps so I don’t trip and land in sharp rocks or thorny tumbleweeds. I lean against a palm, it’s rough grassy sides reassuring me that I’m not asleep.  That a world made of darkness still has texture and form.

My eyes adjust.

There.  Just up there.  I can see the silhouette of the mountains now, right where the sunset left them.  Still black and unrelenting, just a shade darker than the midnight blue sky. The summits, the peaks, have a glow behind them.  They’re so clear now that I can’t believe I ever doubted them. I can’t believe I let the artificial light fool me.

Now I know. I know the mountains don’t leave me during the night, just as Christ doesn’t leave me during the darkness of my life. I trust that the dawn will come, and with it, the truth and goodness and beauty. I will wait out the night with my eyes fixed firmly on the mountain, with my heart rejoicing in the promise He gave to His Church.

And I say to thee: That thou art Peter; and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. – Matthew 16:18

Pano Palm Springs


  1. Beautifully written reflection, Micaela! Sometimes it’s so hard to trust.

  2. This is beautiful! It really resonates with me at this time in our world. I am grateful everyday for the gift His Church!
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  3. I read this post and your NFP post this morning, and I was completely lifted up by the beauty and truth in them. Thank you for sharing your heart and family. Thank you for being a light in the darkness.
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