I saw light this week in the midst of over-excited children and over-frustrated and angry adults. I saw it again today amidst harried drivers and frantic shoppers. I saw it in a quiet conversation with a lonely daughter, laughing with the same daughter browsing at our local ‘hippie’ store. It was there each place I was today. The beauty of it all was it was shining from me.
Some sort of pseudo-puritan false humility has taught me to deny it, to maintain internal as well as external propriety and humility by never claiming virtue, to never risk the label of bragging by recognizing the light that replaces my darkness. Yet the Henri Nouwen I am reading tonight reminds me to clear out the space for it. The “little light” of such joy when sung by Bruce or Mavis is unabashedly called “mine.”
Dear Sweet Savior, save me from myself again. Do not let me hide the light that blazes in my heart. Do not let me fail to be the vessel of light that some other soul is waiting for this advent. Thank you for these friends near and far who are willing to be vessels of your light to me.