Lighting advent candles with my boys has become my favorite tradition for the holiday season. Each year we do it a little differently. But it is a quiet moment in the night. A dark house. Kids patient at the table waiting for something sweet while I light the candles.
For those who don't know, there are 4 candles to be lit. One for each week of advent and a white candle for Christmas. I've seen different themes assigned to the candles. The most common one is hope, love, joy and peace.
This advent has been particularly poignant in pushing a deeper reflection on these candles as I light them. Many friends are going through rough times. Failing health, parents failing health, broken relationships, divorces leading to lonely Christmas mornings. I breath it all in and I pause as I light the hope candle.
Hope. It feels foolish in the midst of a world that continually disappoints. A certain vulnerability to be open to possibility in the face of uncertainty. It's so much easier (and safer) to be cynical.
But those candles.
My dark cold house is transformed by their tiny light. It pierces the darkness and warms the room.
In a barn, on the outskirts of a small town a light came into the world. A tiny baby started a fire that has carried on across the ages. A fire that carries the message of hope for light that is still to come.
Tonight, I gaze at my candles and carry on my heart a prayer of hope for all of you who are trudging through it. May a small light shine in your life this week.
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