Shadows and Reflection

EARLY yesterday morning, I found myself taking part in a nine-mile hike, or a "hump" as the Marines call it.

The stars were out, and as we climbed into the hills, there was just enough light from the base below us that I could see shadows.  Cast at my feet on the sand, I was surrounded by shadows of Marines carrying rifles, with their packs and all their gear.  You could tell from these shadows that these men were warriors.

As I looked about me, a memory came rushing back.  Fourteen years ago, I first caught a glimpse of my shadow as a young private in the Army, going on a very similar hike during some early morning hour.  Seeing the shadow of me carrying an M16, and decked out in battle gear, shocked me into the realization that I was indeed a soldier.

With this memory bubbling to the surface, I then focused on my own shadow.  Unlike the others, including the one in my memory, there was no rifle.  I looked like all the rest, burdened down with gear, except for that one crucial difference.

As I mused on this, something wonderful happened.  A bright light from the base below caught the brass cross on my collar just right.  For a brief moment, dancing on the sand where my shadow lay was a large golden cross.

It may have just been a coincidence, but the combination of everything created a holy moment for me.  As I stumbled through the dark, on a very difficult hike where every footstep seemed to sink into the soft sand as I labored up and down the desert hills, I had reason to praise God.  Like passing through the shadow of the cross at the temple, I had found a holy path as I walked in the reflection of God's love.