Such a poignant song, ‘Candle in the Wind’ speaks of brief moments in time others share with us. How they burn brightly for a while, and then they leave, taking their light with them. When my husband died, the brevity of life hit me hard. I had lost other family members, friends, and unborn children, but this was my best friend, my soul mate. He had shared the load of those other losses, but he could not share this one. At his service, I gave a eulogy encouraging others to embrace their loved ones. To take every opportunity to tell them how much they enrich our life is precious for too soon, they cannot hear us. We are here only for a blink, a moment, compared with eternity. Those moments are valuable and far too few when you lose your spouse. No matter how long you were together, you want more – love, time, songs, adventures, embraces, conversations, touches, encouragement, kisses, - more of everything! How we miss the warmth of their candle beside ours as if in the extinguishing of theirs our light diminishes.
A candle requires maintenance to keep the flame steady and bright. The wick must be trimmed to prevent wavering fire. We must keep it out of a breeze lest it causes one side to melt faster than the other. We need to let pillars burn for an hour or two to keep the height reducing at an even level. We must keep all candles away from combustible objects. We must never leave them unattended.
When the flameless candles came out, I welcomed the forever flame concept. No longer did I need to be concerned about falling asleep while enjoying candlelight! No longer was it a big deal to run the fan while having candles lit. The bright LED’s, or the softer flicker of incandescent bulbs gives the illusion of a candle without all the fuss or the hazards. I still enjoy the flameless candles, but I do miss the scents of favored wax ones. They require battery replacement to prevent dimming or going out completely, but oh the convenience and the beauty.
Just like a candle, we require maintenance to keep our flame steady and bright. We must guard against becoming an illusion of what we claim to be. When we face trials, especially loss or a crisis with our health, we have an opportunity to strengthen our faith. I’ve not only seen loyalties waver like a candle flame, I’ve lived them. Burning bright with promise, I claimed faith would get me through this season of widowhood. But the winds of change blew hard, and the shell melted unevenly, to the point of me collapsing in a puddle. I didn’t lack faith, but doubt had crept in causing my flame to waver. I focused on my circumstances that prevented from seeing the next step.
I relate our trials in this life to the wick trimming of a candle. We must have our faith strengthened to keep our flame burning bright. The hardships we face are temporary, and no one escapes them. There is a variety in what we face and when we face it, but we all encounter challenges to our resilience and independence. How we come out of these seasons of suffering is in direct proportion to our faith. How well we hold up through the trials stems from how well we stay focused on God - being in His word, fellowship with other believers, singing praises and prayer.
My light may waver and dim from time to time because it needs maintenance, but His light is always shining brightly. In the darkest times, I seek the comfort of His love and peace that surpasses all understanding flows through me, giving me strength and increasing His light in me. What about you? Is your candle lit? Does the wick need a trim? Do you need your batteries charged? Pray. Seek Him with all your heart. He’s waiting for you; a lighthouse in every storm, His light is always on.
Monday, January 26, 2015
Monday, January 19, 2015
Start the Year Off, Write
New beginnings rarely follow the calendar hanging on the wall or the one in our electronics. In fact, I have found they appear with every sunrise. Each morning as the sky takes on the brilliance of a fresh day or hangs with the leaden clouds of a cleansing rain, we have an opportunity to try again. I am not referring to the daily routine of rising and going to work; I am talking about our first thoughts. Those moments of beginning awareness as the fogginess of sleep lifts, offer us a moment of newness. Our mind is a blank slate offering us a Genesis sort of challenge as we open to the endless possibilities of the day ahead. As the light of day chases out the darkness of the night, we get the chance to begin anew. Only sometimes, we do not move to fresh ground; we do not greet the day with joy. We hide.
Some mornings I find myself reflecting on the seasonal changes of the world around me, how they mirror the years in my life. The bleak landscape of winter gives way to the refreshing newness of spring that succumbs to the heat and laziness of summer followed by the apple crisp fragrance of fall. Cycles of life, change us, mold us, refine us and define us, if we let it.
Some days I get a rush of adrenalin like on a roller coaster. We face peaks and valleys in our lives, rapidly moving to get off where we got on. An endless circle of difficulties where we are frightened or thrilled followed by a sense of accomplishment and joy. Although I enjoy the rush of sharp curves and the fall of my stomach when on an amusement park ride, in life they can, and usually do, scare me. I find myself wanting to get off and take a breather, grab some ice cream or popcorn and watch others ride for a while. Just to listen to them scream as I sit safely cocooned in the shade of a big tree without a care in the world is thrilling enough thank you very much.
Sometimes, my day starts with musings best left alone. When I find myself wallowing in the city of Uncertainty living at the corner of Fear and Regret, I must challenge myself. Sitting across the street are neighbors you may know too, the Been’s – Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda, and Has. A family with a mansion full of things they can’t, or won’t, let go off. Weights really, dragging them down, and I share in the packrat mentality of associating memories to objects. When we get together, there is so much gloom and oppression I can hardly raise from the bed.
Just around the corner on Busy Avenue is the younger family in the area, the In’s – Plug, Tune, Link, and Join. We travel different courses. I like the scenic route sometimes, but they are always on the freeway, rushing to get some place, to see someone, to do something. I scramble to keep up with the blur of their movements, but a tricycle cannot match a Porsche, no matter how fast I pedal! How do they get any rest? My eyes hurt from all the blinking lights, and my legs cramp from racing around acquiring things. They seem energized from the frenzy of every moment in their day while I feel drained just watching. I cannot even carry on an intelligent conversation with them because their lingo is an abbreviated style limited on vowels. There is no secret decoder ring to help me; the legend hidden in some file on a phone without an on switch.
Some mornings I find myself in the cul-de-sac of Memory Lane, and I want to linger there, especially at the If house, deep in retrospective conversation with What. Speculation of the past is destructive and a waste of time really. It puts us in a vicious vortex over which we have no control to break free. Applying the same analysis to the future becomes paralyzing. I repeatedly spin in place, going nowhere fast with all day to get there; stuck in what was, afraid to move to what can be.
Eventually, I go to the next house where I reach for the elusive treasures. Those memories shared with loved ones no longer in residence; those dreams shattered with a broken heart. I move in a trance from room to room, touching and remembering, wishing and mourning. I open up boxes to find the scents of a past adventure and I want to relive it. I want to sit and do nothing as I recall every minute detail of the moment. As if alone I can somehow experience how I felt then with the love of my life, as if in the total recall, I can somehow bring them back. As if I no longer have permission to live without them by side, as if I am a part of something now broken, a puzzle missing pieces integral to the beauty. It is dark, and no one can see me cry so I may as well just grab an economy size pack of tissues and drown in the flood of tears.
The brick and mortar house, where I sleep, is not my home. It is where I am staying for a while. It is nothing more than a temporary shelter. The memories are not in the wood and fabric of the interior of the place but nestled within the chambers of my fractured heart. Holding onto the souvenirs of travels, the tangibles we exchanged, the furniture we purchased together, is burdensome, and it is heavy. The bigger the shelter, the more room to stash another object; how easy it is to become a hoarder when you grieve for everything has a memory attached!
With a new year, I leave behind the resolutions often made and broken quicker than a lightening flash. I reach out to embrace the revelation of a new season in my life. I strap in with the faith of a child, knowing I am safe. Filled with the excitement of a toddler just told they are going to Disney World, I take those tentative steps. Knowing if I stumble, You will steady me and if I fall, You will lift me up to brush off the dirt, kiss the bruises, and set me back on the path again. With every struggle, I know I am one blessing closer to coming home.
I ask you to join me, inventory your future and let go of the past. Set your eyes upon eternity, where you will call home. Imagine for a moment, will it be an adventure filled with light, love, and excitement? Will it be the worst horror show ever with you alone in the middle of darkness and despair? I chose life. What about you?
Some mornings I find myself reflecting on the seasonal changes of the world around me, how they mirror the years in my life. The bleak landscape of winter gives way to the refreshing newness of spring that succumbs to the heat and laziness of summer followed by the apple crisp fragrance of fall. Cycles of life, change us, mold us, refine us and define us, if we let it.
Some days I get a rush of adrenalin like on a roller coaster. We face peaks and valleys in our lives, rapidly moving to get off where we got on. An endless circle of difficulties where we are frightened or thrilled followed by a sense of accomplishment and joy. Although I enjoy the rush of sharp curves and the fall of my stomach when on an amusement park ride, in life they can, and usually do, scare me. I find myself wanting to get off and take a breather, grab some ice cream or popcorn and watch others ride for a while. Just to listen to them scream as I sit safely cocooned in the shade of a big tree without a care in the world is thrilling enough thank you very much.
Sometimes, my day starts with musings best left alone. When I find myself wallowing in the city of Uncertainty living at the corner of Fear and Regret, I must challenge myself. Sitting across the street are neighbors you may know too, the Been’s – Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda, and Has. A family with a mansion full of things they can’t, or won’t, let go off. Weights really, dragging them down, and I share in the packrat mentality of associating memories to objects. When we get together, there is so much gloom and oppression I can hardly raise from the bed.
Just around the corner on Busy Avenue is the younger family in the area, the In’s – Plug, Tune, Link, and Join. We travel different courses. I like the scenic route sometimes, but they are always on the freeway, rushing to get some place, to see someone, to do something. I scramble to keep up with the blur of their movements, but a tricycle cannot match a Porsche, no matter how fast I pedal! How do they get any rest? My eyes hurt from all the blinking lights, and my legs cramp from racing around acquiring things. They seem energized from the frenzy of every moment in their day while I feel drained just watching. I cannot even carry on an intelligent conversation with them because their lingo is an abbreviated style limited on vowels. There is no secret decoder ring to help me; the legend hidden in some file on a phone without an on switch.
Some mornings I find myself in the cul-de-sac of Memory Lane, and I want to linger there, especially at the If house, deep in retrospective conversation with What. Speculation of the past is destructive and a waste of time really. It puts us in a vicious vortex over which we have no control to break free. Applying the same analysis to the future becomes paralyzing. I repeatedly spin in place, going nowhere fast with all day to get there; stuck in what was, afraid to move to what can be.
Eventually, I go to the next house where I reach for the elusive treasures. Those memories shared with loved ones no longer in residence; those dreams shattered with a broken heart. I move in a trance from room to room, touching and remembering, wishing and mourning. I open up boxes to find the scents of a past adventure and I want to relive it. I want to sit and do nothing as I recall every minute detail of the moment. As if alone I can somehow experience how I felt then with the love of my life, as if in the total recall, I can somehow bring them back. As if I no longer have permission to live without them by side, as if I am a part of something now broken, a puzzle missing pieces integral to the beauty. It is dark, and no one can see me cry so I may as well just grab an economy size pack of tissues and drown in the flood of tears.
The brick and mortar house, where I sleep, is not my home. It is where I am staying for a while. It is nothing more than a temporary shelter. The memories are not in the wood and fabric of the interior of the place but nestled within the chambers of my fractured heart. Holding onto the souvenirs of travels, the tangibles we exchanged, the furniture we purchased together, is burdensome, and it is heavy. The bigger the shelter, the more room to stash another object; how easy it is to become a hoarder when you grieve for everything has a memory attached!
With a new year, I leave behind the resolutions often made and broken quicker than a lightening flash. I reach out to embrace the revelation of a new season in my life. I strap in with the faith of a child, knowing I am safe. Filled with the excitement of a toddler just told they are going to Disney World, I take those tentative steps. Knowing if I stumble, You will steady me and if I fall, You will lift me up to brush off the dirt, kiss the bruises, and set me back on the path again. With every struggle, I know I am one blessing closer to coming home.
I ask you to join me, inventory your future and let go of the past. Set your eyes upon eternity, where you will call home. Imagine for a moment, will it be an adventure filled with light, love, and excitement? Will it be the worst horror show ever with you alone in the middle of darkness and despair? I chose life. What about you?
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