Filling the Empty Vessel With Light

A friend of mine was having an estate sale. It was sort of bittersweet to be there ~ knowing that her mom had passed away but that they were in need of people to help empty the home.

My girls found an oil lamp amongst some of the many treasures in that home. Harkening back to a time of Little House on the Prairie, I thought it might be a perfect fit for our family.

 Yesterday the tag in our Advent calendar read: Light the oil lamp for the first time.

Thus, an empty vessel was filled with red oil. A long cotton wick was dipped into the deep red liquid, and we waited until it was saturated before my husband lit the end.

Out of this empty vessel -- this see-through, dull and lifeless glass container -- shone a light that was brighter than all the lights on our Christmas tree.

The children were mesmerized. We had turned out the lights to be as “authentic” as we could be, and everyone was drawn to the lamp.

Many thanks to my friend who let her mother’s lamp come to our home to bring light to the darkness.

The Advent season and the season of Christmas can be joyous and also difficult. This year five of my husband’s cousins lost an incredible mother, our uncle lost his wife and another cousin lost his daughter. Several of my friends have lost their sweet mothers this year. Too many friends have lost babies. Too many veterans have lost their lives to invisible wounds. Too many friends are in a difficult place – financially, physically, personally, spiritually. One woman who went to school with my brother and I found out that her adorable little girl has incurable cancer. My heart aches for her, her parents, her sister, my friends, my family – everyone who has endured loss and faced uphill battles.

What always seems to hold everything together is the light. There is a light that radiates from our uncle and his children. There is a light that shines in the smiles of my friends as well as in the sparkles of even the most sorrowful of teardrops. There is a light that keeps a family rooted in love despite the unimaginable.

Sometimes, when life feels the darkest, I find my hope renewed in the light of others. I am drawn to those who find the goodness in every day. I am inspired by those who show compassion despite being downtrodden. I am awed by those who have been touched by God’s grace and who live fully in the light.

This Advent, during the anticipation of Christ’s humble birth, I am clinging fast to that light.

I’ve been busy. I am following Matthew Kelly’s Best Advent Ever program, and the message the other day left me wondering if I have been thriving or just surviving. I’ve vacillated between the two all my life. Haven't we all?  Isn’t that just the way of life? This Advent, during the four weeks before we celebrate the birth of a baby in swaddling clothes, I am working hard to thrive ~ to remember what really matters in life. I want to make this season a season of love, or, rather, a season of light.

Be the light, because somewhere, someone is looking to you to be that light. Bring the good news to those who need it. And if you are in the darkness, if you are just barely surviving, seek the light and, seek out a trustworthy person, because, no matter where you are, you were designed for the light.