A PORCH LIGHT

Have you seen it yet?  It just came out a week ago.  Steven Spielberg’s new movie, FULL DISCLOSURE DAY. 

No, this particular Caring Catalyst blog post isn’t trying to convince you whether or not there is extraterrestrial life or aliens among us nor is it to enter into a debate about how good the movie was or any spoiler alerts

B U T. . . 

The other night I walked outside after dark and noticed a single porch light glowing down the street.

Nothing remarkable about it, really.

Just a light. . .but more than A Light. . .

Yet as I stood there, I found myself thinking about what that lhose little lights and the shape of what it was saying.

Someone lives there.

Someone cares for that place.

Someone is home.

But then another thought occurred to me.

That porch light beyond the little lights forming a heart, tells me a great deal about that house, but it tells me almost nothing about the rest of the neighborhood.

For all I know, there could be ten houses beyond my sight.

Or a hundred.

Or a thousand.

The light doesn’t answer those questions.

It simply reminds me that this particular place matters to someone.

Lately there has been renewed conversation about whether we are alone in the universe, especially with Spielberg‘s new movie. Scientists search the skies. Telescopes peer deeper into space than ever before. People debate possibilities that previous generations could only imagine.

And while I find those conversations fascinating, I also wonder if we sometimes become so focused on what might be “out there” that we overlook what is right here.

Imagine a child asking a farmer, “Is your porch light the only light in the world?”

The farmer smiles and replies, “It’s the only one I can see from here.”

Years later, the child climbs a mountain and discovers countless lights stretching across valleys and distant hillsides.

Suddenly the child understands.

The farmer was never trying to explain the entire world.

He was teaching the child how to care for the light that had been entrusted to him.

Maybe there is wisdom in that.

There is so much we do not know.

There are mysteries above us, around us, and within us.

The more we learn, the more we discover how much remains undiscovered.

And perhaps that’s not a problem to solve but an invitation to wonder.

Wonder keeps us humble.

Wonder reminds us that we are part of something larger than ourselves.

Wonder allows us to look up at a sky full of stars and say, “I don’t have all the answers, but I am grateful to be here.”

Whether the universe contains only us or countless forms of life beyond our imagination, one truth remains unchanged:

We have been given this moment.

This life.

These people.

This porch light.

The challenge is not figuring out every mystery in the cosmos.

The challenge is tending the light we’ve been given.

To love well.

To forgive freely.

To show kindness.

To care for our neighbors.

To leave the world a little brighter than we found it.

Maybe that’s enough.

Maybe that’s more than enough.

And maybe, just maybe, while we’re busy arguing about how many lights exist in the universe, the real invitation is to make sure our own light is still shining.

Keep looking up.

And don’t forget to keep shining.