c. 1999 Religion News Service

(Campbell is the religion editor of the Mobile (Ala.) Register.)

UNDATED _ Darkness may surround you. You may not be able to see where you’ve been, where you are, where you’re going. You may be scared.

You’ve got a flashlight.

Mine’s black, white, green, yellow, red and brown. It beams a mean streak of light with the nudge of a black button, and for the last few weeks I’ve been carrying it around with me just about everywhere I go.

Sure, fine, go ahead, call it a flashlight.

But that’s not how this little rectangle of light-on-demand billed itself. That’s not why it’s become a cherished talisman.

I keep my Holstein Cow flashlight handy because, according to the text on its packaging, it possesses amazing powers.”Discover the fun of flashlights!”the marketers exclaim on the cardboard packaging.”Feed a child’s imagination. Flashlights make bright ideas brighter. Captivate their attention and watch their imaginations grow.” Who wouldn’t keep such a thing within arm’s reach?

—

I have never taken part in an epic adventure.

There was the trip to Tijuana in an El Camino that had no rearview mirror. But I traveled with friends who are almost twice my age and therefore Upstanding Citizens, and we were home in time for dinner.

Once, another friend and I portaged a state park canoe from a slime-filled pond in which, retrospectively, we believe we were supposed to remain, and set out along the Mississippi River instead. We laughed and sang camp songs and paddled madly as motorboats and one steamboat dwarfed us with their waves and presence.

But again, back before dark.

My family and I were stalked by a herd of Scottish cows _ really, really big, hairy cows _ a few summers ago. But the cows were behind a fence, and _ I think _ ultimately more interested in their cud than in us.

Not really much compared to, say, Ulysses.

So I content myself with reading about other people’s big adventures. Those people who, for example, climb rocks by day, then pitch their tents on cliff walls perpendicular to the ground and sleep like bats at night.

I’m not making this up.

Somebody wrote about it and photographed it for National Geographic about a year ago, I think.

—

There’s one thing about my flashlight’s billing, however, that I would rephrase.

The company says its product will help children”explore the darkness.” I think it will help them _ and any other user _ see the light.

Small adventures are precisely when you need such assistance.

Chances are, if you’re intentionally sleeping at a 90-degree angle to the ground, bright ideas may not be your forte in the first place, so you wouldn’t be on the prowl to make them any brighter. Secondly, you’re in such a state because you’re the sort of person who plans your adventures; you’re not, it would seem, the sort of person who leaves a whole lot of room for your imagination to grow, or who is looking to feed the aforementioned imagination.

But for small, smack-out-of-nowhere adventures, you need a flashlight.

Darkness may surround you. You may not be able to see where you’ve been, where you are, where you’re going. You may be scared.

You’ve got a flashlight.

With the push of a thumb, you’re in business: You’re exploring the light.

It doesn’t eliminate the darkness completely.

But every ray helps!

DEA END CAMPBELL