The Edge of All the Light You Have

I wish I could find a photo of the poster. Or a reprint. My father hung it on the wall of his church study in the 1970s. 

The left half was goldenrod yellow, the right half was pitch black. A jagged line down the center of the poster divided them. It read:

Faith means
   walking to the edge of
  all the light you have
    and taking 
               one
                   more
                              step.

Every word was printed in bold black against yellow. Except for the word step. The last word, in goldenrod yellow, stepped over the line into the black.

Into the unknown.

The above was to have been the beginning of my next post. After last night’s presidential election, it is the life-raft that is holding me afloat.

I’ve never done well with the unknown. Even though I am the daughter of parents who stepped over that jagged line again and again. I hold them close to me and imagine what they felt as they made the choices they made. Choices that were life-giving and life-expanding. Choices that broke down the barriers that White supremacy and patriarchy are hell-bent on building.

I’ve never done well with the unknown, so I will leave it there.

There will be more to say. Just not right now.