Our family returned home at midnight from a sun-filled vacation in Mexico. As we pulled into the driveway, a swarm of police officers with flashlights were canvassing the street.
There was a bullet hole in our front window.
It ended up being teenagers being stupid, but we were all shaken by what could have been a much more tragic result. In the harried days that followed, we learned that our house was the only one on the whole block that was empty when the shooting occurred. The incident brought our neighborhood together in amazing new ways.
Eventually, Kim and I were able to ask, “What does this terrible event make possible?”
The half-circle shape of the broken window inspired us to think of a vacation home we once rented that had stained glass windows. I designed a new sun window, hoping it would serve as a beacon of hope to the whole neighborhood. (Read the whole story and see the window here.)
We live in a dark world, where tragedy and pain are all too common. But even on the darkest, cloudiest days, the sun doesn’t disappear. It’s still there; it’s just hidden.
In the battle between light and darkness, the darkness doesn’t stand a chance.