We get to this time of year, and light becomes a precious commodity. Our planet tilts and the southern hemisphere gets all the fun of grilling out and laying on the beach. To paraphrase the Alan Jackson, Jimmy Buffet song, “It’s Summer Somewhere.”

Farmers start the fall work in reasonably long days. We watch our daylight slip away till much of the work is done in the dark. There was a time nature called all the shots, and the farming day was bound by the number of hours of sun. Now we have lights on our combines and tractors.

Some nights, the moon even pitches in. Each fall, we get a few nights to be out under a full moon which are glorious. Shutting off the combine and being out in a field bathed in moonlight made extra bright by the cool, fall air is a priceless perk of this job. It reminds me no matter the challenges, I am blessed to do this.

If you drive around on fall nights, you notice these small “cities” across the countryside. Bin setups, where the crop is delivered to dry and store can shimmer on the horizon as much as a small town. A lot of wattage goes into that display, especially as farms get bigger and the yield from thousands of acres funnel there.

Our setup is modest in comparison: a drying bin and three storage bins that were shiny new when I was young. I spend a lot of time there each fall. I have memories of working with my father, with heavy coats on November nights when we could see our breath. Those memories are treasured now. I wouldn’t have guessed that in the moment. I was miserable then.

I had an electrician friend add some lights to brighten new bin stairs that were added as safer-than-the-old-bin-ladder. Additional lights are also a safety enhancement. I work up and down and around a lot of moving things that could cause injury if the wrong part of me got in the wrong part of them. Seeing things helps avoid unpleasant surprises.

Lights have gotten better on the equipment. Our combine and newer tractors have bright white LED lights, much better than the lights that I remember my dad picking ear corn with on the old 560. Guessing those lights went out 15 or 20 feet. Now the area lit is larger besides being brighter.

With all artificial light, there is field of illumination that has a boundary. Beyond that is the dark and unseen. What is unseen is unknown. Every once in a while, a fellow can creep themselves out late at night, after long hours in a cab. There’s a reason I don’t watch horror movies. My imagination can gin up a scary possibility in those rows in the dark over there without the aid of a script writer.

We take walking into a room and flipping on a light switch for granted. None of us remember a day you couldn’t unless there was some sort of outage. A few generations back did know that, and what an incredible change. I read once how many minutes and hours someone had to labor before electricity to pay for lamp oil or candle to light one room for one hour. Now we leave lights on all over the house for pennies.

Mostly, we don’t notice the battle being waged against dark by car lights, streetlamps, and light fixtures. I can drive through town on a winter night and think nothing of every house glowing from within. People are doing dishes, kids doing homework, someone watching TV.

It’s different when I drive into town at 4:30 in the morning for my Adoration shift at church. Then, a very small number of houses have a light on, usually one room. My imagination wants to fill in the blanks: Up early for work? Someone not feeling well? Crying baby?

I am by no means a fan of the shortening days. I get that this happens every year, but I still want to say to the southern hemisphere, “I want my sun back!” I’ll grant that there are some benefits to a short day. One is that there’s not a lot of time between sunrises and sunsets. It’s easy to be outside for both.

Both have been regularly spectacular this year. A sun low on the horizon with a dimpling of clouds can create an amazing montage of colors. Sometimes it’s like a watercolorist just spilled everything. Around then, I will be flipping on combine lights or running around to flip switches on the bins. But the warmth and glow of a sunset can steel one for working out in the cold hours ahead.

I opened with light as a precious commodity. It also has been the most common metaphor for good as long as people have been writing things down. We all want to be that candle lighting the dark. Or LED light in more contemporary terms.

It takes no creative writing to see a need for light in today’s world. There seems no limit to negative thoughts, harsh language, and snarky criticism. Social media has been getting blame for that lately. It certainly has empowered people to mock and belittle those they disagree with. Much of it coming from the most comfortable, well-off people who have ever lived.

Being light might mean withholding that mean thought that strikes you as you sit at your computer. Maybe let a line go by in a conversation that rankles you. Maybe turn up your light, say something positive, compliment someone, comfort another.

There is a now 25-year-old song that is a favorite. Written by Chris Rice, “Go Light Your World” has been sung by many Christian singers. Here is the chorus:

Carry your candle, run to the darkness,

Seek out the hopeless, confused and torn,

Hold out your candle for all to see it.

Take your candle, and go light your world,

Take your candle, and go light your world.