When darkness falls, you'll realize how hard it worked during the day.

When darkness falls, you'll realize how hard it worked during the day.

You were busy outside, the row of planks in the yard basking in the sun, the windmill turning. You didn't have time to look at them, and they didn't need your attention. They just did their own thing, quietly, without seeking credit or complaining. You passed by, just noticing them turning and basking in the sun, not giving them a second thought.

When darkness fell, you pushed open the yard gate and were stunned—the light was on inside. It wasn't turned on before you left; it turned it on for you while you were gone. Then you remembered that with such a bright sun and strong wind during the day, it must have accumulated a lot of energy. It accumulated all day, just to provide you with a bright light at night.

With the light on, your heart is also brightened. You know this light isn't from the power grid, it wasn't bought with money; it was accumulated little by little during the day. When the sun was shining, it accumulated energy; when the wind was blowing, it accumulated energy. When you were busy in the fields, it accumulated energy; when you were resting at home, it was still accumulating energy. It accumulated all day, just waiting for you to come home and turn it on. You sit under the lamp, looking at its light, and feel a deep sense of peace. In that light lies the sun's strength, the wind's strength, and above all, its tireless energy. The harder it works during the day, the brighter it shines at night. Looking at the lamp, reflecting on the day, you understand perfectly—it's not a machine, but the one who gathers light for you.

When darkness falls, you'll know just how hard it worked during the day—the light is on. From today onward, darkness isn't the end, but the time to assess its day's work.