Candles

Husband and I just returned from a walk with FurButt. While I ponder and type, he is undecorating the house from the holidays. Wreaths in windows: down and stored. Lighted greenery with big red bows: removed and tucked into boxes. Candles in the windows: staying.

We’ve decided to keep the candles in the windows for now. Daughter AKA BabyGirl – oh how she hates it when I call her this… oh for memories of when she giggled and snuggled deeper into my lap – asked us to maintain the lit windows. I agreed with joy. I’ve always enjoyed the sight of candles, especially candles in windows.

According to Google, the tradition of candles in windows continues today in many homes. During colonial times, when this tradition supposedly began, it was a sign of good news. A beacon of light to weary travelers, it was a way of saying, “hey, we’re here! Need a place to dry your face and prop your feet? We’re here! Hungry? We’re here! Thirsty? We’re here! Feeling overwhelmed? We’re safe! Feeling lonely? We’re good company!”

Need a friend? A listener? A hug? We’re here! Need a family? You are welcome here!

I have become rather nostalgic lately, only four days into this sabbatical journey to the depths of my heart and back out into the world… some of my favorite memories involve our children and their myriad of friends, animals, and somewhere between friend-and-animal (sorry, Walter, but I couldn’t figure you out, man.) Open door policy. No questions asked. Everyone was always welcome in our home, into our hearts, often into our arms.

Which means on (rare) occasions, we did get stolen from. Yep, money was lifted. Some might say we were naive. Chumps. But it was the price we chose to pay – literally – for the privilege of creating safe space for seeking souls. I wouldn’t change a thing.

I’ve never felt like I needed to protect my stuff, that someone might steal it. How can it be stolen when I’m not attached to it? How can it be taken from me when I’m not holding onto it?

It’s kind of like when Pontius Pilate said to Jesus, “dude, I can so totally kill you, ya know… I hold the key to your life” and Jesus replied, “man, here’s the truth: I hold the key to my life. If you kill me, it’s only because I’m letting you.”

So Pilate said to him, “Do you refuse to speak to me? Do you not know that I have authority to release you and authority to crucify you?

Jesus answered, “You would have no authority over me if it were not given to you from above.”

John 19:10-11

Okay, maybe not a perfect example after all… but the idea that perspective is vital… take what you must from me, I offer it freely anyway. Nothing owns me. I have stuff but I am not my stuff. So, meh, a few souls helped themselves to stuff that was in the home that we’ve created without asking us. And we allowed it to happen. It didn’t happen to us; it happened for us… and we chose to Love.

Thing is, we’d have given them whatever it is they felt the need to lift. All they had to do is ask. 

Sigh. My heart… breaks for those who don’t know Love.

There’s a reason why someone is sneaky. There’s cause behind behavior. For my part, God, allow that the Love we share in this house would soften defenses and open hearts. Allow that I would live in a vibe of faith that God is working all things together for the goodness of each One we welcomed in.

God, please keep me open-hearted and seeing the God-spark in each One whose path crosses mine. 

Seeing darkness – easy peasy. Seeing Godness – requires Love. Making a big deal out of the Light in another just jazzes me. Reminds me of Who I AM. Reminds me that I AM Light and, as such, I wield such super-powers as Seer, Encourager, Way-Shower, and Grace-Giver.

“Last of the boxes, hon.” Husband has finished undecorating. Already I am missing the red bows. Only 346 days til Christmas, or something close to that. Maybe we’ll decorate early this year. Red bows in September is cool, right? 🙂

Maybe let’s leave the lights in the windows… if only to remind me, each time I pull into our driveway, that God is always welcoming, always home, always gracious… kind, patient… even when I am sneaky and forget that all I have to do is ask… that Love’s answer is always, “we’re here!”

Ah, God. Thank you for never giving up on me… for seeing the God-spark, for treating me kindly. For waiting up late, for drying my face and allowing me to prop my feet. I am loved, indeed. ❤