A Candle in the Dark

 A few weeks ago, we enjoyed a Christmas candlelight service where little tea light candles were placed inside glass jars.

                                                       I loved the row of candles in the dark.

And if there were ever a time that seemed dark, it is now. 

But there are still candles in the dark--whole rows of them.

 

Even while Georgia counts its votes, and Congress decides whether to certify electoral college votes, 

there are candles in the dark.

 
There are common, ordinary Americans going about their daily work, doing their jobs, praying in our helplessness, reaching out to others in the dark who are worried and struggling. 

The lights and trees and ornaments of Christmas are coming down, one by one, but there are still candles in the dark.

There are places of peace where one person after another has chosen to put their trust in God--

and do the next thing.

It might be homeschooling one's children, or going to work, or taking supper to the grandparents, or attending church, or sweeping the floor or knitting dishcloths and scrubbies for someone's Christmas.

It might be helping to pull stranded motorists out of the snowy ditch like Jonathan and the boys did on our way home from friends in western Colorado Sunday evening.

It was dark on that slippery road, and one vehicle whizzed by within inches of our bumper.

But we just were doing the next thing--trying to help someone in the cold and dark.

Just little tea candles in the dark.