The tree’s still up in our living room. Her lights shone all through December, and only got unplugged so we could camp out over New Year’s Eve, but I’ve plugged them back in for a day or two more. I don’t want the lights to dim.
In fact, since we’ll most likely pull down the tree and put away the decorations this weekend, I’m considering stringing white “happy lights” (as my sweet Ames calls them) across the crown molding for year-round, stretching twinkles across these rooms so the glimmer never has to go out.
It isn’t like I don’t know the light of Christ lives in our hearts and not on string stuck in a socket. I carry His light with me always, smiling it outward to all I meet. I can’t imagine not glowing with His grace and the love that makes all things new.
But these lights dancing across a wire above our heads remind us to stay lit.
And being lit from the candle celebrating the first breath of the Bread of Life, well, that’s a spark that can keep us aflame for a very long time.
And who doesn’t want to live life well-lit?
I’m beginning to see evidence that I am a walking paradox, this girl who loves darkness and rain and dimly-lit rooms cozied up by candles and blankets and books and journals and pens. But when it comes down to it, it’s light that I want to pour into the lives of others, twinkling out from the heart of this grateful creative with a green plaid blankie and a marshmallow mustache.
Most of the time I would tell you that light is overrated. But not His. His brings beauty and joy and a hope nothing else on this earth can produce. His is the light I want to share. So I’ll string my happy lights and wish all a Happy New Year for the second day in a row, because His kind of happy is what we long for every day, whether we recognize that longing or not.
In 2014 I plan to stay lit.