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It was a rainy afternoon as I drove down the Pacific Coast. My heart was racing like a horse, having barely escaped the unmentionable acts of torment at the hands of my husband. There, off in the distance stood the only symbol visible to my faith in God.
My car came to a slow steady coast as I neared the frontage road of the old lighthouse. Having weathered many a storm, the lighthouse resembled my rocky marriage. I gazed at the sky then covered in hues of red, orange and gold. I watched as the lighthouse's beams touched one corner of the horizon to the next. Silently, I stood at the majestic building, solid on its foundation, never ceasing its search for wayfarers.
On a cliff, I sat on the edge and watched as the surf reached its climatic gait and break along the rocks below. "There is solitude and peace here," I whispered to myself. Silence. It was a time to gather my thoughts and meditate on God.
Some people have often asked why would I drive so far to visit a lighthouse. My answer is simply, "Lighthouses are a gateway to our eternal home. They are the closest thing to Heaven, here on earth."
I no longer live near the Pacific Coast and lighthouses are very rare around my part of the United States. Whenever I see a lighthouse, it is a constant reminder that my faith carried me through the storms of life.
This story appeared in the August 2002 edition of Lighthouse Digest Magazine. For subscription information about the print edition, click here.
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