“It’s almost dark; twilight.” my dad said as he gazed out the window from his hospital bed. I waited for him to say something more. There was always a purpose behind what he said. “Do you know what twilight is?” he asked. “Hmmm?” I replied and his lesson began. As the dim light faded into night, he told me that twilight is that period of time after the rising or setting of the sun when one sees the stars most clearly. It is the best time to take a navigational bearing to ensure that you are on the right course. “Do you know the difference between morning and evening twilight?” he quizzed me. I admitted that I did not. In fact, I didn’t even know that there were two “types” of twilight. Sensing something profound was about to come from him, I leaned in and listened intently.  I wanted to glean as much wisdom as I could. The time of his passing was coming near. He continued his lesson and I learned that “evening twilight” is the optimal time to take bearings because there are more stars visible.  At the end of his lesson, he paused.   Then, pointing his finger at me, he said, “Remember that! You might need it some day.” I looked at him, he winked and the lesson was over.  Given the conversation that we had about twilight only a few weeks before, it seemed only appropriate that he passed from this world to the next through the veil of morning twilight. Since that morning, I have remembered our conversation many times, although, probably not with as many details as he would have wanted. What continues to nudge at my heart is that “twilight” is when we see the most clearly; that moment that we can get our bearings and continue on a right course. There is clarity in the twilight between life and death; in those brief moments as one event transitions into another – when the weight of your life hangs in the delicate balance between mortal and immortal. By that time, one is a seasoned sailor and the significance of everything you do and say is so much greater.  It is easier to find meaning in each moment;  there are so few left. Although it seems odd, I found great clarity in those last “twilight” weeks between my father’s life and death.  Perhaps it is because I was only dealing with one event at a time.  But in the transition between of his death and the continuation of my life, I struggled to find “twilight” clarity. You see, after my dad passed away, my life had been in a constant state of transition. A seemingly never-ending sequence of compounding events tossed and tumbled me like waves of the sea.  I tried to stay afloat while moving from one event to the next  but having missed the twilight, I was unable to take new bearings.  I was drifting off course – uncertain of my direction and purpose.

I wish that I could say that I quickly dug deep into my faith and found something to hold on to; but the truth is that I had been drowning in my tears of brokenness. But at the moment that it seemed as though I could no longer stay afloat, my heavenly Daddy stepped in to buoy me up and to set me back on course.

The words to a hymn called Solid Rock rose to the surface of my mind:

“When darkness seems to hide His face, I rest on His unchanging grace. In every high and stormy gale, My Anchor holds within the veil.” No matter how many more unexpected transitions hit me, the one thing that will never change is the goodness and grace of God. It is a lesson that I have re-learned many times, but now I have a “twilight” perspective – a moment of clarity. I am reminded that in that moment of clarity, if I just look up instead of around me, I can get my bearings, reset my course and move forward again. “We have this hope as an anchor or the soul, firm and secure.” Hebrews 6:19