Candlelight
(c) 2017 Linda M. Rhinehart Neas Yesterday, as we sat silently in an historic structure of a community that has held Christmas services since before this nation was a country, we lit candles from a flame that had traveled from hand to hand all the way from Bethlehem. As the tiny mote of light touched our candles in the darkened room, the light began to grow, until, by candlelight, we were able to sing from the hymnals, just as those who gathered here over three hundred years ago. From one tiny spark was generated enough light to read the printed word! The metaphor of the flame from Bethlehem was not lost on me. The Light of Love, symbolized by the candle's flame, also, increases each time we do something kind, something thoughtful, something just. I saw in the faces of those around me how the Light glowed from their hearts through their eyes. I prayed silently that this Light would never grow dim, that it would increase, just as our candlelight increased in the dark...