New scenery, new zip codes and new outlooks have welcomed this month of November. I left Colorado the first week of October, Cash and Dutch in tow, ready for new adventures. This summer came to a close, but life seemed to continue to move quickly around me. It left me unable to see the forest from the trees at times. I needed a fresh outlook.

I-80 is about as pleasant as it can be before the sun comes up. I exited at North Platte to head yet farther north to Thedford, one of my favorite Nebraska Sandhills communities. There, a coffee stop was much welcomed, and my fresh new powder blue fedora was waiting for me. My dad, mom and I met Kacey Hoffman-Orr this spring. I had a vision for a powder blue fedora that she brough to life with some vintage ribbon and a hat pin, shaped perfectly, creased and crisp.

Her shop is dazzled with hats from cowboys who really used their hats, old photographs of her and her family, Herefords of the past, and the current stock she and her family raise and exhibit. From across the counter, you can see hats, mostly for working and ranching, and her beaming smile, always welcoming. We talked about life and livestock, then leaning into current affairs and the state of our world. Through exchanged giggles and laughs, the conversation drifted more seriously to the times we are in.

Although she and I are old souls, identifying more with our grandparents and perhaps simpler times, there’s no doubt we were each born for such a time as this. Although the world may seem chaotic, divided, and hostile, there is light. Kacey lets her light shine through to anyone who walks through her hat shop, and I’d imagine, whoever she encounters.

But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.1 Peter 2:9

Marvelous light is impactful in the English, but expanding on the definition of the original translations, there seems to be even more depth here. Marvelous, according to Strong’s Concordance, means wonderful, astonishing, and amazing. Light, more deeply, refers to luminosity, to make shine, or fire. God didn’t just call us from darkness into light. This light is powerful, awe-inspiring light; a fire that expands and shines, visible and igniting.

We are called into this marvelous light. It is a part of who we are. I think that is what makes it so astonishing. The light expands, catches hold of us, and much like wildfire, there is no stop to the expanse of it once it starts. This fire is not bound by the natural. It is supernatural, marvelous in behavior and in brilliance, never fading, always more than what we could fathom.

At times, when the darkness ensues around us, we can forget the marvelous light exists. Where is it? It is there, I can promise you that. Sometimes it is easier to see through others than what exists in ourselves. But in isolating moments, or times of trial, the source of our light is always there, never fading, never letting up, only pursuing.

The sun shone brightly as I exited Kacey’s shop, with only a couple of hours to my final destination, at least for today. Highway miles are my favorite, passing through the heartbeat towns of the sandhills, and admiring tall grass and fat cows the whole way.

As I came into O’Neill, Nebraska, with plenty of daylight left, I turned off the highway onto a sandy dirt road. I don’t think my trailer has driven through sand before, but we learned quickly how to navigate, and more importantly, what not to do. Jim Wakefield has been a family friend for a long time. When he had learned I started roping, he invited me to their arena to tune up before heading south. Almost two years after the initial invitation, I was taking him up on the offer.

After a short time being there, I quickly learned how many people have come through and stayed with them, some of which I’ve gotten to meet while there. Photographs and back numbers cover the walls of the bunkhouse, and the stories never stop. We exchanged laughs and shifted again to deeper thoughts at the dinner table. There it was: more light.

Light isn’t afraid of its brilliance; it thrives on it. But we can only shine our light when we feed it. The light is evident in this place. And they aren’t afraid of shining it. At times, I tend to be more of an introvert, especially in Nebraska. Perhaps it’s because I don’t know what version of myself people have met or heard of in the past. But I was reminded during this time how important it is to shine the light we have once we are aware of it.

We can’t change the past. We have all been in darkness, but once we have come into the light, we are called to shine. Through the weeks, we have talked about how to shine and share the light. How do I shine without putting someone off, offending someone, or quite frankly, being weird about it? It doesn’t have to be weird, and preferably, don’t make it weird. But don’t hide it either.

Even though the days are supposedly shorter, there’s still room to share more of your light. This light is set apart, different, and never fading, because no matter what the clock says, the world says, your family says, your bank account, your trial, whatever thing in the natural cannot dim the light of the supernatural. I think that’s how we shine our light. No matter where you’re called, what you’re going through, or what you’re doing, be bold in knowing the light is in you, part of you, and it never fades.

Shine your light this season, and don’t be afraid of being seen in it. And when someone asks, be prepared to share with them how marvelous the light is. The light is good, and it is for all to experience. You don’t get to decide how they experience it, but you can introduce those you encounter to it. People will know something is different about you, because this light is anything but common. May your fire be strong, your light be brilliant, and doors open for your light to shine even more marvelous this season.