Living the Light

 One of the things I love about the holidays is that you notice things you're often going too quickly to see during the rest of the year. It's as if our eyes are open in a special way - opened by the One who came to open us. 

 As I drove to a Christmas Eve service about an hour's drive away, I was breath-taken by something I saw along the way: right at a highway intersection, off in middle of an open field, some joy-inspired soul had decorated one lone Christmas tree...all by itself. It was lit up with hundreds of twinkling lights, casting colors and beauty across the frozen snow. I felt tears coming to my eyes...one person, filled with the spirit of the season, took the time to give hope. To share light to a dark world. And then it hit my heart...

 This. This is what I want. Not just at Christmas, but all year through: I want to be among those who stand alone as pure light. Light reflecting from within. Dark being pierced. And a dark night it was too - it's winter in the Arctic. And the days feel long here. Daylight is minimal. Nights are long. So too, the winters of the soul. 

 As I drove to the service, took in the music there, lit my one candle and sang "Silent Night," I thought of that tree. And of the many people whose hearts are cold this time of  year. There is no light they can see anywhere. The dark has set in deep for them. They look for hope. They seek the One come to save us all, but it is too dark for them to find Him.  

 Driving home, I passed that tree once again. I made a point to slow down a bit and fix that image in my memory. I cannot change or fix the sorrow of this world, but I can be willing to be placed in the places most needing light. His light. I can make the daily choice to live the Light - even if I must shine alone. And, perhaps, by that light, some soul in need of Jesus will be shown the way.