From Scared to Sacred
In the darkness, alone, terrified that my vision would never return, while also praying, desperately clinging to hope in the Great Physician. I asked for miracles, but I also bargained, “Show me what to let go of and where to focus.” Each time I opened my eyes and saw less, panic increased. I searched my memory for anything to fight against the anxiety and depression waiting to consume me, from song lyrics to Scripture. I prayed continuously. Some moments, panic took the driver’s seat, but I fought back through faith and prayer. I am still surrounded by an army of people praying with me in this journey. Fear cannot remain where gratitude and faith hold center stage.
Vampire Ways
In general, I prefer softer lighting. Some friends joke that my house is too dark and call me a vampire. The living room has dark green walls, wood floors, and the blinds usually stay closed since the windows face due east. When the door is open, it creates a blinding glare, even on cloudy days. In that darkness, humor surfaced as a way to cope. I joked, “I may need to rethink my vampire ways.” Now that light is returning, I still find myself retreating to those vampire ways. I dim lamps. I seek quieter, darker spaces. Light often feels too bright, distorting colors and shapes, causing strain and fatigue. My eyes and brain tire more quickly in this stage of recovery. Healing does not always look like charging into the light. Sometimes healing looks like learning how much light the body can tolerate and when rest is required.
Those thoughts led me to consider why stories about light and darkness appear so consistently across cultures. Myths and legends often grew out of real human experience. Illness, unexplained death, fear of the dark, and the limits of understanding shaped the stories people told long before science could explain what happened to the body. Imagination filled the gaps where answers were missing. Vampire legends, in particular, span centuries and cultures. While the stories vary by era and author, many share common themes. Harsh light overwhelms what is unprepared for it. Survival requires awareness of limits and intentional movement. These stories reveal more about human vulnerability than about monsters. They reflect how people respond when light feels overwhelming or absent, and when answers remain out of reach.
Are you Afraid of the Dark?
Fear of the dark itself seems nearly universal. Darkness represents uncertainty. People fear what they cannot see, predict, or control. Doctor Who captures that fear clearly, in the episode Silence in the Library. The Doctor observes, “Almost every species in the universe has an irrational fear of the dark. But they’re wrong.” He goes on to explain that the fear is not irrational, but an unseen terror called the Vashta Nerada. This microscopic species lives in shadows and devours anything in its path. It cannot be reasoned with as it moves silently, striking without warning. The characters fear the dark not because darkness itself is evil, but because something unseen waits within it. Panic increases as certainty disappears. Survival depends on light, awareness, and staying together.
The Light in Darkness
Scripture does not promise the absence of darkness. Scripture promises the presence of God THROUGH it. “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.” (Psalm 23:4) God does not wait on the other side of fear. He walks before, beside, and behind us. He surrounds us with His presence and care. Darkness does not limit His ability to guide, protect, or restore. His sight remains unlimited!
This season continues to teach discernment. Retreat is not rejection, boundaries are not failure, and rest does not signal resistance to healing. Healing includes learning when to step back, when to dim the lights, and when to allow the body and mind to catch up to the progress already underway. For now, I retreat to the comfort of my cave, listen to my body’s need for healing, and rest in God’s peace. I trust a Big God who sees clearly, even when I do not. I pray that these limitations remain temporary, but that the lessons endure long after my sight fully returns.
“The LORD is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?” (Psalm 27:1)