I’m sitting outside in the gazebo (pronounced gaze-bo), watching Steve work on pre-wiring it for the ceiling fan and lights. I’m also enjoying God’s majesty as the sun begins to set, providing me a cloudy splendor as the rays shine down like spotlights. One of my neighbors is mowing and the sound only slightly interferes with the gentle beats of the wood chimes as an occasional breeze moves them together.
When I first came out here, being the typical Southern gal that I am who doesn’t like getting too much nature on her, I lit the Cinnamon Spice Citronella Candle to help keep those pesky mosquitoes away from my tender flesh. As I watched the flame gently flicker, dancing in the soft breeze, it almost seemed merry, which made me think of Christmas. I reached over and tenderly cupped my hands around the candle, enjoying its slight warmth, even though my phone tells me it’s 86 degrees out here.
My thoughts drifted from one place to another, and then they flickered as the flame of the candle wavered. I cupped my hands around it, trying to prevent its light from extinguishing. It worked and once again the flame danced merrily about, shining its light, fulfilling its purpose. I thought about me and my light as I once again valiantly placed my hands around the candle, trying to prevent the wind from overtaking it. Distracted by my surroundings, I looked away. Just for a moment. The sky was so pretty!
Feeling a tickle on my leg, I brushed away the fly that was trying to nest there (although Steve assures me flies don’t nest. I reminded him I haven’t shaved this month and this fly was definitely trying to nest!).
“Why isn’t that candle keeping the bugs away?” I thought in dismay.
Guess what? It had gone out again, snuffed out by the wind when I wasn’t protecting it, when the watchman had failed in her duty. Thought it didn’t literally move, the candle had lost its place from the protector. Only a slight scent of its fragrance was left behind--left behind to remind me.
About what, Stef?
About this little light of mine. About when I let it shine and when I allow it to give off gentle warmth. About the fragrance, the aroma that I emanate. About the bugs I keep away. And about the winds of care that blow sometimes softly and at other times more forcefully. It makes me glad that Jesus isn’t like me and does not look away for even one second. It makes my heart smile as I envision His nail-scarred hands filtering what can and what cannot touch me. It makes me grateful that while I can sometimes shine before others that it’s His glory that is revealed.
That’s what it reminds me of. Aren’t you so glad you asked?
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