The Mirror and the Lamp

Do not be dismayed by the brokenness of the world.
All things break. And all things can be mended.
Not with time, as they say, but with intention.
So go. Love intentionally, extravagantly, unconditionally.
The broken world waits in darkness for the light that is you.
~L.R. Knost.

We are heading into the darkest days of the year. I know that these are hard times for many people. The drawing down of the light - it feels a little bit like encroaching death.

And the holidays, while they can bring such joy, can also be a source of pain, especially for those who have lost someone or something dear, even if that lost thing is only hope.

One of the things I love best about December is the Christmas lights. They shine out of the darkness. They give me reasons for hope. In the olden days, my husband and I used to spend 10 days in Florida after Christmas. (He got his undergrad degree at U of Florida in Gainesville; once a Gator, always a Gator!)

It was always fun to head south and escape from the cold, wintry weather. But I remember the joy that would leap up unexpected in me as we returned; when after driving all night we would arrive in our home state just before dawn.

And the sight of the first Christmas lights shining out in the snow, in the darkness. I think it was the contrast that made my heart sing: light out of darkness. Hope triumphant.

When I was a little girl at home, the light over the sink was almost always on in the kitchen. It meant that Mother was home; that the heart was in the house. For the kitchen is the heart and soul of a home; or at least it was, for us. I turn my own kitchen light on at dusk. Maybe it's force of habit, you say. Maybe it means that the heart is at home and that love lives here.

I put up a second Christmas tree in the bedroom this weekend. There is already one in the living room. They are both just little trees, really, up high enough that the cat can't get at them. For surely he would.

The second little Christmas tree, I pulled from downstairs. The lights were already on it, but they wouldn't light this year. So I bought two strings of colored lights at the Dollar Store. I wanted white, but all they had was the multi-colored ones.

So I brought them home and strung them on the tree. Two strings. Just one wasn't enough. And I was surprised at how delightful they were. Maybe they are even better than the white lights I had on it before. They certainly seem more joyful.

The little tree sits atop a shelving unit with tiny creatures gathered all around it. You know me; you can only guess at how many "tiny creatures" I own. ;-) Many; let's start with that. And behind the tree sit a mirror and a lamp.

Edith Wharton once said that "There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it." I guess there are other choices. You can choose to be the darkness. That's a choice too.

Anyway, I could tell you that it was all on purpose: the Christmas tree, the mirror, and the lamp. But it is all just a happy accident, or at least I think so. It was the only spot in the room big enough for the tree. The mirror reflects the light, increases it, makes it shine out brighter.

When I am at home, both Christmas trees are lit. It's such a small thing, so easy to do. I hope that travelers passing by can see the lights through the windows. It would make me happy to think so: to give even one passer-by hope.

Be of good cheer. For the season turns round this week and the light will return, dear ones. Darkness cannot overcome the light. The heart is at home. Love lives here. All of the lamps are lit.

The soundtrack: given the season, I'm providing two songs to go with this one, one secular and one not. Belinda Carlisle, with Leave a Light on for Me. And Emmylou Harris, with Light of the Stable.