In conversation with the hospice nurse, I heard myself speak the words, Dark Lover, an image of death that emerged from my unconscious, later enlarged within Isaiah’s revelation: I form the light and create the darkness (45:7) Until now, I’d not seen this comparison—both Dark Lover and its counterpart, Lightsome Lover, glimpse the same reality, intimately involved in on-going creation, both its ascendancy and decline.

Like others, I’ve experienced my share of trials that began with a difficult breech birth. Trauma from fractures and food sensitivities that developed into chronic illnesses diminished my participation in life, but in retrospect, I did manage, with Dark Lover’s guidance, though not recognized as such.

His care and protection have seen me through caustic bone pain, the monotony of learning to walk seven times, significant falls, the dullness of exhaustion. Even more has he been present in prayer—teaching me: Your will, not mine, be done.

With this trenchant insight, I’ve a new lens through which to view my present circumstances. Despite the increase of symptoms, I’m prompted to let them go, and to deepen my surrender to Dark Lover’s care flooding my aged body and battered spirit, ever in the process of depth healing.

This is working out, twenty-four hours at a time.