Treasures in Shadows

Helen Syski sees God using shadows in our lives to point to treasures of self-discovery.

The frustration was palpable. Walking down the oceanfront with a mob of nieces and nephews, I had spotted a huge crab sunning on the rocks. The young nature lovers enthusiastically attempted to follow my instructions to see it, but the crustacean was frozen. Without movement to give him away, the crab blended perfectly into the rocks. The kids strained against the fence, their eyes darting between their gesturing, jabbering aunt and the boulders below.

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Then my brother used the shadow of his outstretched finger to touch the crab. Instantly, excited squeals announced his successful communication.

And it hit me: this is how God uses shadows in our lives.

We all have these shadows, the darkness in our lives, the suffering. The pain is absorbing, and our prayer is too often filled with the cry of “Why?” when perhaps we ought to be asking, “What? What is it You are pointing to, Lord?”

My pregnancies bring an incapacitation that halts everything except trips to the bathroom. The physical, mental and emotional suffering nearly broke me those first years of marriage.

Yet, as time unfolded over the years of struggle, I came to know:

I am.

I simply am. Whether I can think or do, whether I can care for others or fulfill my duties. Or not.

I am His.

And being His, I am worthy of love. He claims me even in my weakest moments. He upholds, He cherishes, He sustains me at every moment. No matter what others think or do or believe. He is there. He is here. He sees me.

And that is enough.

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As I began to see His finger in the shadow, I was humbled as only God can humble us. My talent, my intellect, my hard work, my service, none of that pertains to my value before God. He was challenging me:

Did I really truly believe I was beautiful in His eyes, in the depth of my soul, stripped of all that glitters and is not gold?

Bob Schutz’s book Be Healed uses the image of a man walking across a gorge on a tight rope pushing a wheelbarrow. If you see the man cross safely, you may cheer and believe he can do it again. The test of your belief is if you are willing to get in the wheelbarrow.

My shadow of sickness was God pointing to the wheelbarrow. Get in. Live this faith you say you have in the inherent dignity of every person.

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As I began to see His finger in the shadow, I was humbled as only God can humble us. #CatholicMom

All of His treasures require something from us, either interior or exterior, minor or major. We have to get in the wheelbarrow. Perhaps this is why we are reticent, why we prefer to stare at our pain than at God. Our pain we can do battle with, but God? Who dares to cross swords with such majesty?

A genuine dialogue with the Holy Spirit is open to discovering what God is pointing to, open to discovering that all is not as it seemed. It is open to learning, to growing, to struggling, to being amazed at how simple it all becomes when we reach up, clasp His hand with ours, and do the next thing in front of us.

Allow Him to touch you with this shadow, to show you a treasure, and He will heal you in ways you never knew you needed Him.

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