This post was previously published in January 2022 but the sentiments are true today as well.

I enjoy candles. My son indulges me by giving me a new one each Christmas. This year, the scent was pumpkin pie spice. I love the fragrance it gives out when I light the flame.

Remember the chorus in Sunday school, “This Little Light of Mine?” It went something like this:

“This little light of mine/I’m gonna let it shine/This little light of mine/I’m gonna let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.”

In the church where I grew up, we sang this added verse: “Shine all over {church’s name}/I’m gonna let it shine/Shine all over {church’s name}, I’m gonna let it shine.” In my mind, I used to insert the name of my community in the place of the church’s name.

Matthew 5:14-16, familiar to many of us, reads:

“Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid. Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.”

A few years ago, I heard the song by Kathy Troccoli, “Go Light Your World.” A link to the music video is posted below. This song inspired a vision of me carrying a candle, lit with the flame of God’s love, to others. As I witnessed for Christ, their hearts would be touched. The light of my candle would light theirs as well.

I shared this vision with a minister’s wife, who although retired, worked part-time for our church. I’ve never forgotten the words she said in response:

“Remember those of us who have been working in ministry for a long time, also. We get tired sometimes, and we need to keep our candles lit.”

I understand her sentiment now more than I did back then. It’s been hard to keep my candle of faith burning during this time of isolation. For reasons of my own, I’ve been watching videos of church instead of attending in person. At home, I listen to Christian music, and read my Bible and devotionals. I also read Christian romance novels with their inspiring love stories.

However, none of those things can take the place of meeting loved ones face-to-face. I want to sit down and have conversations with family and friends again. I miss seeing the sparkle in their eyes and their warm smiles as we share our lives and laugh together.

I’m thankful for social media and phone calls which have helped me stay connected to family and friends. Their ongoing encouragement has helped to keep my candle’s flame lit.

Good Monday morning.

It is good, right?
I woke up.
The sun will rise soon.
I’m still a child of God.
No matter what happens around me, or to me, my identity in Christ remains the same.
I have a Savior, a Redeemer.
The Holy Spirit abiding in me brings me joy and peace.
Do I still worry?
I would be lying if I said no.
I am a work in progress.

I can only see things with my human eye, hear with my human ears, and think with my human mind.

I can’t see the big picture, and sometimes the bits and pieces that I can see don’t make any sense.

That can be a little scary.
I am not invincible.
I don’t hold the power of life and death.
Even so,
I know the One who does.
The Giver of Life.
The Creator of all things.

“For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”
1 Corinthians 13:12-13.

From Heaven’s side, my life is a beautiful tapestry.
From here below, all I see are the threads, and they don’t make a pretty picture. In fact, they are a jumbled mess.

Today the desire of my heart is to trust God in all things.
To remember that this life is not all there is.
To be of courage, and to encourage others.
Above all, to love.

Originally published in January 2021, today’s post is about how God hears and understands my thoughts even when they are a bit muddled.

I’ve been told that I’m a low talker. Because of this, I’m sometimes hard to understand. I have to speak up, and enunciate more clearly, if I want to be heard. My kids get embarrassed when we are in a drive thru because I talk extra loud to make sure I’m understood. I also do the same thing when I am on a speaker phone. It’s as if because I can’t see the person, and they can’t see me, I have to speak louder to make myself heard.

When it comes to writing, however, I’m able to make myself clear with words. I use my desktop computer for most of my writing. I like to watch the words appear on the screen as I type out my thoughts. It seems to be the only way I can keep up with what I’m thinking. The faster a story flows out of me, the faster I type.

It’s a lot different from when I took typing class in high school. “Eyes on copy” were the words that started each practice session. I was supposed to look at the letter I was typing instead of watching where my fingers were on the keyboard. Because I wanted to both look at the paper and watch myself type, I was very slow. I was also not very accurate. I think my fastest timed writing test, without errors, was 21 words per minute.

It’s funny how with such a bad beginning, I became one of the fastest typists in an office where I later worked. Fifteen years after high school, my timed typing test was 90 words a minute.

Being able to type that fast allows my fingers to keep up with my thoughts. There are times, though, when my hands and wrists get tired after typing for several hours.

I thought the answer to that problem was to buy a dictation program. I’d thought about getting one for a long time. I was excited to finally purchase it last year. It didn’t take long for me to realize it was not going to work for me.

Apparently, my computer can’t understand me, either. The words that I dictated came up all wrong in the document. I spent hours editing the few paragraphs I managed to write. It didn’t take too long for me to quit using the program.

I’m glad that praying isn’t like that computer program. Whether I speak the words out loud, or say them in my mind, God hears and understands me perfectly.

You have searched me, Lord and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely.

Lately, I admit that my prayers are a bit of a jumbled mess. I don’t own a TV, so I haven’t been watching the news, but I hear enough conversations and Facebook posts to know that our nation is in turmoil. I don’t know how this will affect me personally, or what it means for my children’s future. So when I try to pray, I don’t know what to say.

I’m thankful that God is unlike my dictation program. He can take my tangled up thoughts, and understand my prayers. And He will answer them, in His own way, and in His time.

Good Monday Morning 1-3-22.

Whew!

The holidays are behind us.

Shopping and baking and wrapping gifts (although I cheat and use gift bags mostly).

Decorating and undecorating (my decorations are still up. Maybe I’ll get them down and put away this week).

Overeating……(Enough said about that. It’s back to “regular food” this week).

I still have one more Christmas celebration this coming weekend, the gathering of my siblings and their families.

We won’t all be together. As our kids have grown up, some have to work on that weekend; others have moved away.

But I will see my sisters and brother and their spouses. I love to spend time with my siblings.

We always find things to laugh about, even when we are going through tough circumstances.

I remember when we were at the funeral home, after my dad passed away, making final arrangements (my mom had died a few months prior to that). It was definitely a time of grief. But we didn’t see any casket that we liked that really said “dad.” The funeral director said he had one that just came back and brought it in to show it to us. It made us chuckle to think that a casket had returned empty to the funeral home. (I understand why that happens, and it’s really nothing to joke about. But at that moment, it struck us as funny).

Right after my husband passed away, we were sitting in the hospital waiting for the final paperwork. It was not a time for laughing. But I stuck my foot in my mouth when I said something negative about a person who was standing right next to me. I nudged my brother-in-law and said, “You should have stopped me from saying that.” He said, “There wasn’t time.” (I still chuckle when I remember that moment, in spite of being embarrassed).

Those moments of levity during difficult times are part and parcel of being in my large family. My dad could always see the humor in everything. My mom loved to joke around and laugh.

I’m so thankful that my parents taught us how to laugh, even if the laughter is at our own expense.

In December I lost a beloved aunt and one of my good friends passed away from Covid. Other families have lost loved ones as well. I don’t find anything funny in either of their deaths. Those times of levity during my times of grief were to help me get through it. I would never laugh at someone else’s grief.

These two deaths bring back memories of my own days of living in a fog from grief. It took several months for me to begin to live “normally” again after my husband passed away. Of course I had to get up every morning and feed the kids and get them off to school, but for a long time I felt like I was just going through the motions.

That first holiday without him was so hard to get through. It didn’t get any easier the following year when we again celebrated without him.

Eleven years have passed since then. My kids have grown up and are independent adults. I know they still grieve their father. But we have enjoyed our time together the past few holidays.

This year we celebrated on Christmas Eve as is our tradition, with a nice dinner. Then we opened our presents and watched Christmas Vacation with Chevy Chase. It is my favorite holiday movie. While parts of it are crass, it is so over-the-top ridiculous that I laugh all the way through it.

I thank God for the gift of laughter.

As I said, my parents were a good example at how to get through the dark times while keeping their sense of humor. My siblings and I enjoy our time together and laugh so much over the silliest of things.

For a long time, when my kids were younger, I forgot how to laugh. I dealt with depression for most of my life and as a mom overwhelmed by the stresses of life, I didn’t find much to laugh about. I remember attending a bridal shower and my aunts were joking around so much that my face hurt from smiling. There are times when it’s like that with my siblings, also.

I hope that I have passed on that gift of humor to my children. They saw me angry and depressed in their younger years, then navigate the ups and downs of life after I received the diagnosis for bipolar disorder. Medication and counseling helped take away the anger, although I still struggle with depression at times.

During the past 11 years, they’ve watched me grieve their and come through the Valley of the Shadow of their father’s death. I hope they realize that I am a survivor and see me thriving in life despite hard circumstances we’ve all been through.

My parents left a legacy of the gift of humor. I hope that when my kids look back on my life one day, they will remember that I laughed often.

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