Yesterday, Melody and I had a wonderful brunch at Josephine’s Kitchen in downtown Port Isabel. The food was delightful, the conversation effortless, and the atmosphere warm with the quiet hum of a small town moving at its own unhurried rhythm. But something outside the window kept pulling my gaze—the lighthouse.
Standing tall against the hazy grey sky, it was unshaken, unwavering, a silent sentinel watching over the harbor. As I stared at it, something stirred deep within me, an old memory surfacing like a whisper carried by the wind.
It was a hymnal I had heard when I was around ten years old—The Lighthouse. I hadn’t thought of that song in years, but now, as I sat in that sunlit café, it came flooding back. The words spoke of a guiding light, of something constant in the midst of uncertainty, of a beacon that remained steadfast no matter how dark the night became.
And in that moment, my mind drifted to my friends—Al, Brad, Mark, Mike, John, Paul— and others; each of them fighting battles I could not see, each of them and others carrying the weight of illness and uncertainty. Cancer, chronic pain, struggles too heavy for one person to bear alone. They were men and women who had once been pillars of strength, and yet now, they were facing storms no one could have prepared them for.
I felt the weight of their struggles settle over me like a quiet tide, not in despair, but in reverence. How often had I wished I could take their burdens away? How many times had I struggled with the helplessness of knowing there were some fights I could not fight for them?
And then, I looked at the lighthouse again.
It did not fight the waves. It did not rage against the storm. It simply stood, a presence in the darkness, a symbol of endurance and guidance. Perhaps that was my role, too. Perhaps I was not meant to be the warrior in their battle but the presence that reminded them they were not alone.
As Melody and I lingered over the last sips of coffee, I closed my eyes for just a moment and said a quiet prayer. Not for miracles, not for answers, but for peace. For strength in the face of uncertainty. For light in the midst of their storms.
I was grateful for that moment. Grateful for Melody, for our lives, for the simplicity of a meal shared with love. And as we stepped out into the breezy afternoon, I took one last glance at the lighthouse, standing tall against the horizon.
A silent promise.
For my friends, for myself.
To be steady. To be present. To be the light when the night seems darkest.
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‘The Lighthouse’
There’s a lighthouse on the hillside that overlooks life’s sea. When I’m tossed it sends out a light that I might see. And the light that shines in darkness now will safely lead me home. If it wasn’t for that lighthouse my ship would sail no more.