The workday over, I head for the car. The overwhelming burdens of the daily grind berate me through the building’s walls as I dare to leave them all behind. I open the car door, slip into the driver’s seat, start the car, pull away, and begin the long drive home. The 50-minute commute gets drearier as the sun hastily makes her winter exit beyond the dead dry fields. I blink off sleepiness, trying to maintain healthy thoughts and make it home safely.
The sinking light signals dusk as I twist and turn through the Flint Hills. Darkness, why must you come so early?! My heart crinkles and cries: efforts of work have drained me painfully dry, and the coming darkness is so enveloping.
One thought keeps away despair: I will light a candle a candle tonight. That brings a smile to my dreary face.
Turning the lock of my apartment door, I enter into my still, pretty place. But it is dark. Hollow. Empty. Like me in that moment. No one home.
I set my things down by the door.
My candle in the center of the room sits nearby. I grab the lighter from a nearby precious tin, a relic of WWI, and tread to the humble unscented candle in the middle of the living room. Picking up the candle, I bring the lighter close to the charred wick and ignite the lighter.
Awake and glow,
Dispel the Night:
Come thou cheery light.
The flame catches. The white wax absorbs and glows with the warm light of the flame. I sigh, gratefully, contentedly. The flame rises to a healthy height and hovers like a great, luminous sentinel over its waxy watchtower. My room has come to life. I am not alone anymore. Here is encouragement to go about my task. If this single luminous sentinel, one mere flame, can fill a room with cheer, then I can burn brightly about my evening tasks, a lantern in the dark.
The book below inspired me to stock my house with plain, unscented candles during this season. No, I do not do seances. (Note: I may receive a commission at no extra cost when you click the link below. Thanks for clicking! )
The story behind these reflections on darkness and light: The abrupt nightfalls of November, overhung by dreary, cold weather have always brought panic in my little sun-loving heart. Some of us struggle with the depressive blues that November and February often bring on top of our ordinary struggles. Inspired by the Danish concept of Hygge, I determined to prepare myself with ways to brighten the dark nights. This coincided with Advent, a preparation for the coming of the “Light of the World.” May these reflections of darkness and light cheer you on in your life’s journey.
Bridget Bryan 