Sep 26, 2011

Autumn Candles

I don't have a poem ready, I wasn't even inspired. I didn't even remember it was the first day of autumn . . .  until it was nearly gone.
But I saw candles that night. Autumn candles. Glowing. Dancing.

And I thought, "How very much like us."

You, me.
Who knew the meaning of love when we reached our fingers and touched the blood pooling beneath His hand. When Mary held Him. Dead, weeping. Forgetting. Then I wept, too.

How very much like me, when He keeps my candle burning deep within me, when my light is threatened by a wind. How fragile I feel. How unprotected. And then I remember.

When the world was dark, when I thought death had no limit. He lit His flame, His candle dazzling the darkness, burning still when even the deepest of nights entangled the world. He lit His candle so He could light mine.

I remember what we all forgot.
Death is limited. Even when we die, death has an end. When the Loving Hand reaches down and brushes it away, saying, "It is enough." He keeps my candle burning, though all the rest is blackness and I can't see beyond the flame.

When it has died to a flicker, a spot of orange in a black sea, then He breathes me to life again. Reaching higher and higher. A golden streak crossing a lightening horizon waiting for me. Us. You.

Candles burn the brightest when it is darkness night. Brighter still when you remember . . .


Kelsey said...

Oh my goodness, LOVE THIS SO MUCH. How do you make the most ordinary things seem so beautiful?

I needed this. Thanks a bunch :)

Tracey said...

All I can say is WOW!!! Chill Bumps!! Love you, Mrs. tangwall

Tracey said...

All I can say is "WOW" I have CHILLBUMPS!! What a gift young lady!! Love ya, Mrs. Tangwall

Laura said...

Very pretty. :) And so true!