Delores's Delight

…I have learned things in the dark that I could never have learned in the light, things that have saved my life over and over again, so there is really only one logical conclusion. I need darkness as much as I need light.

~ Barbara Brown Taylor - Learning To Walk In The Dark

It’s called Delores’s Delight.

The favorite dessert of my childhood, I dusted off the recipe card today and made a big batch of it for the first time in years. If I had to choose a final meal before leaving the planet, this dessert would be on the menu. While others in my family wanted cake for their birthday, I only wanted this, and if you decide to make a batch, you’ll probably know why.

Growing up, the best part about it wasn’t the first piece after dinner, delicious as it was. It was waking up in the middle of the night, sneaking into the kitchen and finding my dad there too. In the dark we would cut two more pieces and savor every bite before heading back to bed. Somehow it tasted even better in the shadow filled kitchen than the light filled dining room.

When it comes to this delectable dessert, it is the crushed dark chocolate cookies layered on the bottom and sprinkled over the top that help hold it all together and set off the flavor of the sweet, rich center. In our lives, the dark, the shadow parts of ourselves that we have been courageous enough to explore and come to know as intimately as the rest, are layered with the light, and are key ingredients in what it means to be a whole human being.

Delore’s Delight is a combination of the dark and the light, just like my relationship with my dad. And a lot like real life when it comes right down to it. In order for our lives to be authentic, wholehearted and real, we must incorporate the dark with the light in order to cook up a whole life. One without the other just doesn’t cut it.

The Dark Night

“The first fingers of light appear on the horizon, and ever so deftly and gradually, they pull the mantle of darkness away from the world.”

John O’Donohue - Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom

There are times when life so overwhelms us with grief, pain, fear, and loss that we don’t think we will survive. Some do not, and there is no room for judgement or criticism, only mercy and compassion. I have not inhabited their hearts, only my own, and the only reference I have is my own experience of being plunged into darkness, not knowing when even the faintest glimmer of light will appear.

In those dark nights, we are alone with our own hearts. No matter how much love and support we have surrounding us, no one can make our way for us as we wait for the light to appear. Others may walk with us, but they cannot walk for us. Others may help us bear our burden, but ultimately it is ours to carry. But the treasures of our darkness belong to us. Whatever we discover in the blackness of our night has the capacity to transform us in ways only possible when we have found our way to the dawn of our new day.

In the darkness, while we find ourselves alone, we would do well to remember that we bring with us all of our hard earned resources. Any strength, wisdom, faith, grace, and love that we have accumulated thus far will be our faithful companions, and will sustain us through the night. In her book, Learning To Walk in the Dark, Barbara Brown Taylor says, “…I have learned things in the dark that I could never have learned in the light, things that have saved my life over and over again, so that there is really on one logical conclusion. I need darkness as much as I need light.”

I’ve often wondered if the power that brought the world into being knew that we would need to find hope for a return of the light on a daily basis. That there is a deeper meaning behind the daily cloaking of the world in darkness, so that once again, we can be reminded of the illuminating light that is sure to follow.