Light a Candle…
December 24, 2013
She smelled wax and frankincense. The familiar smells of midnight mass. She was a little girl in pigtails and a red velveteen dress standing next to her mother with her cheek pressed against her scratchy wool coat. She heard the chorus of the choir. The sound was haunting…magical. Her eyes focused on the flames of light dancing in the glass votives along the wall. Her mother clasped both of her hands to her chest. She tipped her head back; tears slipped down her cheeks. Tears for their Savior. Her mother took the stick of kindling in her hand, lit it and whispered…
“O Blessed Lord,
accept this burning candle as a sign of my faith and love for You.
Like this candle, I am ready to be used in Your service,
without asking why and to what purpose.
Even as this candle, I wish to stand in Your presence to be consumed in the light and warmth of Your love.
Please hear my prayer and, if it be Your will, grant my petition.
Above all, make me loyal and faithful to You in all circumstances of my life.
Tonight she offered this prayer for him. She knelt, heart heavy, in a room awash with golden candlelight; air thick with the scent of frankincense. She was ready to be used in his service, without asking why and to what purpose. Her body was his to defile, abuse, caress, penetrate, torture…love.
She had no business praying this prayer with this darkness in her heart, but that was what she wanted. More than anything.
So she lit a candle…
Because that light would be her beacon in the darkness. She tipped her head back. Tears ran down her cheeks. Tears for her Savior. Tears for her love.