An electric timer is the match that sets my windows aglow each evening. As the candle sticks’ LED flames illuminate their window-sill perches, I can almost see their satirical smiles in the shadowy shapes they cast. The irony is not lost on me.
This luminary tradition began as a symbol of welcome and a beacon of hope. During a time of Catholic oppression in Ireland, a candle would be placed in the window to signify to a passing priest that refuge could be found in that home. This Christmas-time custom traveled to America and is still part of Colonial Williamsburg’s historical charm. Like a welcome mat at the front door, the warm glow draws visitors to a home with open, outstretched arms.
I recently bought new window candles, replacing our old battery-operated orange flashing hazard lights that would try to be festive while simultaneously trying to land airplanes. However, the arms of our home were not held open this year. Cancer, a transplant, complications, and immunocompromising treatments are an invitation for a season of isolation and quarantine, not a welcoming sanctuary for visitors. So, while my home now smiled with the warm communal glow of the Christmas season, it was only an illusion.
Or was it?
Although bright and cheery gatherings are much more inviting, I’ve learned that sometimes it’s the dark places we need to light a candle and welcome others into. While our visitors may not be crossing our threshold in search of a warm haven, they bring warmth to us.
It’s not always easy – opening up or showing up, accepting or giving, welcoming or going. But here they are; in the forms of leaf blowing and driveway salting, porch-dropped meals and errand runs, snail mail and text messages, prayers and words of encouragement.
They are light-bearers, beacons of hope.
This year, I may leave these candles in our windows well past the Christmas decor expiration date. This season will pass eventually. Our doors will open once again.
But more importantly, I’ll look at those smiling beams and be reminded of how God designed light. It invites, illuminates, and brings warmth. And it travels.
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