I had one of those nights in which, although I couldn't really remember any of my dreams distinctly, I had the sense of the Lord's presence, speaking and ministering to me, throughout the night. Then, in the morning, I woke up to Carolina having sent me this:
"May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out."
-- J.R.R. Tolkien
And as I sat in bed, as I often do, and reflected, and prayed, and meditated about the night before and the day to come, I began to think about those lights, and colored lights in general and how beautiful and magical they are--how something like a Christmas tree or an outdoor trellis strung with strings of colored lights transports us to a wonderland, a place of peace and beauty and joy out of time, and about how the key to all beauty in visual art is light. And I was also thinking about Hobbits (I began re-reading The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings when I thought I was dying), and their ineffable cheerful resilience. And I realized, I think simultaneously, that a) light represents in material form the goodness and joy of God; b) that the secret to Hobbits' strength is their deep wells of unshakable joy; and c) that joy is a spiritual virtue, not just a feeling.
And as I came to this realization, I began to experience waves of deep, and true, and profound supernatural joy rolling over me, passing through me, welling up from within me. And suddenly, the world looks beautiful again.
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