The Gift of
A Christmas Sign
It was a Christmas night. I awoke about four
in the morning to see a glow. I blinked a few times before I realized that
the warm, glowing light was from an electric candle I had set on my desk by
the living room window. I knew I had turned it off early before I went to
bed so I could read awhile. If I had not turned it off, the other half would
have noticed it when he came to bed a little later.
I got up and went out to turn off the light,
not even wondering how it came to be on.
A few days later, a knock came on the door. A
man cleared his throat and confessed, with some difficulty, that he had lost
his wife in an accident just before Christmas and he felt as if there was no
light left in his life or in his heart. On Christmas night, he had left a
friend’s home where there was laughter and joy and gone home to an empty
house and an empty bed. He couldn’t sleep, so he had gotten up before dawn
and gone for a walk. All the lights had been turned off, and homes and lawns
were in darkness. He was trudging along Church Street, lit only by a street
light here and there. His pain was hard, and he wondered how he could go on
living in the darkness and loneliness of his loss.
“I passed your house,” he said, “and saw a
light. I stopped and stared at it. It was drawing me in as if it had healing
powers. Minutes later, when I looked back, the light was gone. I see it as a
I did not tell him that I had plugged the
light into an extension cord and I must not have completely disconnected it.
Still, what made the connection at that time? There had not been any
movement. And why, just in time for a man to find hope? My timing was
perfect. Why had the faint glow awakened me in time to disconnect the light
so that a man could look behind him and see that it was gone, and believe it
was meant for him?
It was for one man, a Christmas light that
gave him a sign of hope.