The Light

The view from my back porch was breathtaking. A tree filled with glorious pink blossoms. They had appeared after a long winter's sleep when the sun began shining.

A tiny seedling pokes its head upon my windowsill. Italian bean seeds which I placed into a small plastic container to encourage growth. Their faces turned toward the light, soaking up the sun. Even though I turned the planter completely around last evening, when I walked through the door this evening, their cheery faces were once again pointed out the window as if basking and enjoying the bright sunny day.

We are like that too. On a warm day, don't we gather outdoors enjoying the rays of warmth as they light up our faces? Sitting on my porch swing while it's still light outside after a long day's work, only to return indoors as the darkness begins to descend.

The topic of light reminds me of something, a saying I've always loved. It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness.

On my darkest of days, when I'm lonely, when I've been hurt by a loved one, when a sharp retort at my job causes me to feel less than, I must remember the light. When arthritis with its tendrils of pain snake through my back, or when I feel I can't walk another step, I must remember the light. When sadness threatens to choke out all that is good, when past thoughts creep up, snaking their way into the recesses of my soul, I must remember the light. When I'm tempted to speak badly of another, when ill-chosen words with my spouse make me wonder if there's anything good, I must remember the light.

Light reaches into a dark room, illuminating the way. My heart and soul are like that too, as precious light flows into them, illuminating, chasing away any sadness, any gloom which lurks there.

We speak light into another's soul when we freely give words of encouragement. We become light to a darkened world when a kind deed, perhaps unnoticed, touches a person more than we'll ever know. It's a choice, however, this light. For it isn't easy at times. How I long to express in an angry moment, words which would cut to the quick, words which could destroy. I must remember the light.

As I walk through the darkened days, I pick up my candle, illuminating the path before me. Sometimes the corners are very deep with gloom, and other times, only the tiniest flicker of my candle of hope remains. But I must press on, I must not give in to darkness or despair. I choose the light. I choose the path which is set before me, for good or naught. The candle will not be extinguished, for it's flame is strong. At the center of it is the heart of God. And He is my true light.