One morning this past week, when I opened my refrigerator door, I was surprised to find the interior was dark.

The small appliance light that I always expect to be on wasn’t.  The bulb must have burnt out.

I keep an assortment of bulbs in my utility closet.  I have energy saving, pigtail style bulbs.  I even keep a few spare LEDs for my dining room pendant, but I had no quick fix for illuminating the inside of my fridge.

I suppose that it was no big deal that I had to remove a self-closing plastic package of shredded cheese in order to determine whether it was sharp cheddar or Monterey Jack.  Still, finding darkness where I expect there to be light was disorienting.

It took me about two days to replace the bulb. Every time I went out of my home, I kept on the look-out for a hardware store. The item required a special trip to a big box D-I-Y store as, it turned out, grocery stores did not carry such bulbs in their standard inventory.

Why was this little spot of darkness in my life so unsettling for me?

It felt like living without a working 40-watt appliance light, and the state it brought on, was a metaphor.

While in many ways, things have been good.  I have work.  Good friends. Creative outlets.  I’ve been able to sleep.  I’m not in debt.

But I’ve been set off-kilter by the politics and social conflicts of the day.  Truth and the light of truth seems to be dismissed by many, and this has affected my spirits.

It’s hard for me to believe people would be against investigations that could yield explanations for how our country got in this state. Regardless of what you’re your preferences might be, wouldn’t you want to know the truth?

I also realize that I was dealing with a small example of living in darkness and moving into a state of knowing in my own life.

In the summer of 2017, I tripped over my three-step kitchen ladder and ended up dislocating my right shoulder.  A couple months later, when I went to my dentist for a routine cleaning and x-ray, I was advised I had a dark spot around my lower left back molar.  My dentist told me it could be a sign that I needed root canal.

At the time, I didn’t feel psychologically equipped to deal with another health and healing challenge as I was looking at many more months of physical and occupational therapy for my right arm.

Besides, it didn’t hurt.  I put it out of my mind.

Still, not a source of pain, I recently decided to see what was going on.  I asked my dentist to refer me to his endodontist (the root canal guy) who did a 3-D scan.  He told me that he couldn’t save the tooth, and I was referred to an oral surgeon.

I brought my scan, copied on a CD, with me.

The oral surgeon agreed that I needed to have the tooth extracted.  Based on the location, he didn’t feel an implant had to be planned for, although it could certainly be an option later.

He printed up an estimate with two options; a price for just the extraction (with a local painkiller) and a price to include putting me out for the 25-minute procedure.  They didn’t pressure me about setting an appointment before I left their office.

No, this wasn’t life or death, but I felt so much better knowing what needed to be done, knowing the costs, knowing my options, and being able to create my own plan.

Whether I am looking at a healthcare concern, or dealing with an unexpected car repair, or handling something as simple as replacing my refrigerator’s interior bulb, I always feel better when things can be looked at – when light, or the light of truth, helps me view my circumstances and options clearly.

Not knowing is difficult for me.  My mind can so easily generate worst case scenarios.  Perfect options might not always be available, but I feel empowered when I have choices.  Knowing that any decision I make reflects the best that I can do is heartening.

I am grateful for any opportunity to see the reality of a situation, for being able to decide and act.

Letting in light, even a little light, is no small thing.