Now I See It

It would have been a source of pride (and bragging rights with my kids) if I’d gotten it playing soccer.images-2

It would have been more exciting to tell if I’d gotten it in a car accident–more dramatic than a fender bender.

It would have been heroic if I’d gotten it in the defense of some innocent.

No, I got my shiner and head wound from hitting the edge of a dresser. In the dark.

Nothing laudable. Just stupid.

It’s pain. With a high level of humiliation thrown in.

It happened at 5 a.m. one morning last week. John was gone on a trip, and I was getting up at my usual morning glory time. I never turn the light on in the room–out of concern for my other half, I’ve developed a habit of moving through the dark like a mole. It’s never been a problem.

Till now.

I couldn’t find one of my soccer flops, so I quickly bent over to search the nearby floor areas.

Which was when I connected with the edge of the dresser drawer. Open just enough to be in my way.

imagesHow rude.

I hit hard enough that the shock dropped me to the floor. I then felt the warm flow of something moving down my face.

I got to the bathroom and turned that light on. Not a pretty sight. It wasn’t this bad–but facial wounds are known to bleed profusely. Which this was doing.

I then saw the puncture hole. Right over my eyebrow.images

It was deep. Didn’t look especially good. I thought it might need a couple of stitches. But it was 5 in the morning. I was alone. No one else in their right mind would be up. I wasn’t about to drive myself to the ER.

I scrounged for bandages, wanting something that could butterfly this awkward hole together. Found them and the Neosporin.

And fixed myself up.

Not great to look at. But it will do.

All because I didn’t turn a light on.

Darkness isn’t my friend. It trips me up and throws me curves I’m not expecting.

I need light. To do more than just see.

To live.

I sometimes choose darkness because it’s comfortable. Known. It hides things well.

But I do better in the light. I was meant to grow in the light. God’s light.

“This is the message we heard from Jesus and now declare to you: God is light, and there is no darkness in Him at all.”   1 John 1:5

I do need His light. I prefer it.

There will be times when the dark beckons and I’ll want to hide. I’ll not want to see what the light will show.

True light is a journey and a destination. A place to be, to thrive.

I just need to remember to turn it on.

First photo courtesy of

Second photo courtesy of

Third photo courtesy of









13 responses to “Now I See It”

  1. Darkness isn’t anybody’s friend, Dayle, and we ALL need HIS Light to Live! Thanks for your reminder in 1John 1:5. Blessings, get well soon and keep on, with me, Preferring, Thriving and Turning it on for us!


    1. Oh, Lois, you’re a rock star. You really read this and get me. I can’t say it enough–I so appreciate your faithfulness. It makes a difference to me.


  2. Sorry about your wound, Dayle. Always when are husbands are gone! I love your continual call for us to bring our inner souls into the light.


    1. Thanks for your encouragement, my friend. I appreciate that you read my ramblings. The head will get better–at some point. Right?


  3. Penny Gulbranson Avatar
    Penny Gulbranson

    well, now you can once again match me with puncture wounds and have an eye sore (better than being one!). When I got mine, at least I was near Aspen and able to blend in with all the “other” stars who had had plastic surgery and were wearing sunglasses! Ha.
    Seriously, though, I am sorry you had this happen to you. Boo boos and our constant need for healing, walking in and bringing stuff into the light. At least until heaven…but at least we have One who walks with us even if we sometimes choose shadows and darkness.


    1. Oh, my sweet and understanding friend. The head will make it–it has proven itself harder than I ever expected. But it’s a good lesson in choosing light–no matter how comforting dark feels. You and I have so much in common! Puncture wounds? Who’d have guessed it?


  4. Alice Fredricks Avatar
    Alice Fredricks

    Dayle, do you ever wonder if God allows you all these experiences so you have things to write about that turn our eyes toward Him? Thanks for doing it again.


    1. Well, it does make me think that I’m not learning well when some of the same things (looking slightly different) keep coming up. Thanks for reminding me of Who my focus needs to be.


  5. So sorry about your head wound. Great reminder to walk in the light 🙂 You can always call me to come with you to the ER:) I wake up early too.


  6. You’ve got it, Lilipad! Next time I’m bleeding all over my counter, you’ll be my first call! Love that you’re so supportive!


  7. Dayle, I’m sad to heard of your wounded head. It was a mistake–but not a stupid one. I’d rather hide my daily wounds, but healing only comes when I bring them to the light.


    1. Amen, sistah! Mistakes happen. So do goofy (read stupid) choices. I’m OK with that–as long as I keep growing. Keep going for the light. Love you, friend.


      1. Dayle, now I get it. I just moved something in the bedroom; I had habitually stubbed my toe on the Wahoo board.


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