Soul shadows offer opportunity for deep learning

We celebrated two family birthdays last weekend: granddaughter Claire turned 6 years old, and my wife didn’t.

Our daughter-in-law was at a work-related conference from Friday until Sunday afternoon, so we helped our son keep some semblance of order in a house with three very active children.

Saturday night, I heard Claire go to her daddy in tears. “I miss Mommy,” she whimpered. “I know you do, Honey,” Brian said, and hugged her.

A few minutes later, she was in my arms, whimpering and weeping: “I miss Mommy.” After a long hug, she looked up with a smile on her face and ran off to bed.

In her own, 6-year-old way, Claire experienced what I call a “soul shadow.”

This is a moment when one realizes that life is not really in our control. We may rush through a soul shadow, as Claire did, or we may linger within it, like when we wrestle with a life dilemma.

“Soul shadows” is my own term. It results from the reflective research I’m doing on the spiritual tradition I wrote of two weeks ago: the dark night of the soul.

I asked myself: Aren’t there times – from fleeting moments to prolonged reflections – when we may be only slightly aware that our awareness of life is not what we’re used to? We still feel we have control of our lives, but something isn’t as it was when we were comfortable in our routines?

The dark night tradition says “yes” to my questions, even if the questions might be phrased differently. Our souls are much more aware of our deep connections to God than our minds will ever be.

Brother Lawrence, a 17th-century French mystic, said: “People would be surprised if they knew what their souls said to God sometimes” (“The Practice of the Presence of God”).

He and two 16th-century Spanish mystics, Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross, all knew and cherished the truth that the soul has a very active life well beneath the level of our conscious awareness. They dedicated their lives to learning more about that unconscious dimension of life.

John and Teresa called this dimension “dark.” But that’s only the English word we use; the Spanish word for dark is “oscura.” For them, this area of life was “obscure,” not easily seen or known.

We do not see things easily at night. Nor is our relationship with God easily seen, known or understood. It’s obscure.

So why we don’t speak of the “obscure night of the soul”? I don’t know. It may be more accurate and less loaded with the images of scariness or sinister happenings that we often emotionally associate with “darkness.”

Whatever, the dark night tradition really refers to the deepest relationship possible between God and a person, but one that is hidden from that person’s consciousness. Here is where soul shadows enter our lives.

They allow us a glimpse into that darkness. They invite us to explore further.

Soul shadows beckon us to move at our own pace into a paradoxical area of our lives that will remain ultimately obscure to our mental control, yet will reveal so much of our relationship with God than we might ever imagine possible.

I believe soul shadows invite us to experience some of the dynamics of dark night wrestling, yet know we are in a safe place. When we have ears to hear, eyes to see and hearts to receive, our children teach us this lesson.

Claire missed her mommy. That was a distress for her.

So she went to her daddy, where she knew her distress would be surrounded by love.

She came to me for the same reason.

Brian and I couldn’t make her distress disappear. We could offer her love and safety until her mommy came home. That was enough.

Soul shadows are where we are introduced to God in new ways.

Those ways may be enjoyable. They may be distressing.

But they always invite us to move further into the kind of loving relationship God desires we seek with him, and that we desire as well.