I always felt safer in the dark when carrying a MagLite. There was something about its size, about its heft, about its sheer brightness that made me feel better, that made me feel safer, when I would walk through the lonely woods at night. The MagLite was the flashlight of brave police officers, of well-trained soldiers, of courageous first responders, so surely it ought to be the flashlight of a terrified young boy who had to make his way from cottage to cottage in the dark forests of Eastern Ontario.
The great King David knew something about being alone in the dark, for he was a shepherd before he was a king. Where most kings are first princes who spend their youth learning etiquette in fine palaces, David had spent his youth tending sheep in lone pastures. He had heard the first-far-off and then-growing-closer sounds of lions and bears as they stalked his sheep. He had led his flock through dark and dangerous valleys to the green pastures and still waters that lay just beyond. He was well familiar with the trouble and travails of navigating the darkness.
Later in life, when he had become familiar with
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