Words were new to me and God had no name. Light woke me up in the morning, and during nap time, the dust motes floated down a great pyramid of light, a host of ballerina fairies. In the kindly face of the moon, light followed me home from the movies, where light had danced stories onto the screen. Light came in from outdoors and enticed me to go see.
Out in the garden, light gathered around the ordinary gray squirrels. It settled in the brushy ends of their fur, the nearly invisible guard hairs, lit silver around the fuzzy edges. Light everywhere: gold, silver, violet, pale yellow, amber, red-orange. Holy sunrise and Holy sunset.
Held up to noonday sun, my hand revealed red-pink light glowing. Big sister told me I was seeing my blood underneath my skin. There was light shining through me. What a thrill to be part of the whole lit world!
Everywhere I went I could carry this light. Some grownup people had more light; it flowed over, like honey. These people were easiest to love, and had more patience with children. Others seldom showed light, except when they laughed.
When people laughed delightedly, they launched comets, and stars. Laughter was so like the glow around the squirrels’ guard-hairs. Everyone had to laugh sometimes, because people were fuzzy at the edges, too. Laughter in the cracked-open moment of helpless messiness….
I loved a good mess. Every day I rescued snails and caterpillars. Snails, you see, leave their light in shimmery silver trails. A caterpillar carried the story she’d soon be a butterfly as bright as a halo. To hold her was an astonishing privilege: to know a resurrection before ever knowing Jesus.
The intricate perfection of Creation, the depth of light in created things, made me want to create, to delight others. The creatures, the plants, the stones, even the dust motes reflected the Light Within, Without, and All Around – The Light that lived in me and everyone.
— Claire Germain Nail