Uploaded December 2025 | Updated September 2026, 6 hours ago
Holding the Light
A Christmas Eve Reflection.
-
We went to a Christmas Eve service —my mom, my daughter, and me.
We ran into some old friends.My mom’s hairdresser, who’s been doing her hair for sixty years.I’ve known him since I was a kid.It was good to see them again — him and his wife.
Alessia cried when she found out there wouldn’t be a kids’ club.For her, church means fun with other kids.I had to comfort her outside for a bit.I gave her a battery-operated candle, and that helped.
We sang hymns from an old songbook.Songs of faith.Silent Night, among others.
In between, we heard the story of the birth of Jesus —that old story we all know so well,yet it always reveals different layers of meaningeach time we listen with new ears.
What is it about these storiesthat travel through all these yearsand stages of humanity?
That fact alone points tosome kind of undeniable validity.
Then came the lighting of the candles,and the lights came down.
They lit the beginning of each row,and the flame was shared.
There was a mention of Matthew 5:15:
Neither do men light a candle and put it under a bushel,but on a candlestick, and it giveth light unto all that are in the house.
It made me think that this is indeed my work —to get past my own internal demons.
The ones that would have me extinguish my light or hide.The ones that have succeeded in doing that in the past.
To find a way to overcome the challenges of this worldand to share your light.To light another candle by example.To be inspired — and to inspire.
I’m sitting at the crossroads of life,between my elderly parents and my four-year-old.
An interesting perspective —to be the balance bar in between.
Christmas landed extra hard this year.
Singing the hymns without any sense of irony, really.Life staring at me directly.As if to say: why would anyone hide their light?
Life is simply not long enough to justify that.We are but the flicker of the flame.
My daughter, fidgety and playful,tried to blow out my candle.I had to hold it up into the skyto make sure her breath couldn’t reach it.
Another symbol bloomed in my mind.(Oh, would you stop, I thought. Does everything need to be poetry?)
But it is.
Life is a mosaic of meaning.It’s a challenge to be conscious enough to perceive it —but far more fun than being asleep to it.
I held the candle higher.She giggled and kept trying to blow it out.
I smiled and played with herwhile trying to quiet her down.
And inside, I thanked herfor making me hold my light a little higher.
Merry Christmas.
Holding the Light
A Christmas Eve Reflection.
-
We went to a Christmas Eve service —my mom, my daughter, and me.
We ran into some old friends.My mom’s hairdresser, who’s been doing her hair for sixty years.I’ve known him since I was a kid.It was good to see them again — him and his wife.
Alessia cried when she found out there wouldn’t be a kids’ club.For her, church means fun with other kids.I had to comfort her outside for a bit.I gave her a battery-operated candle, and that helped.
We sang hymns from an old songbook.Songs of faith.Silent Night, among others.
In between, we heard the story of the birth of Jesus —that old story we all know so well,yet it always reveals different layers of meaningeach time we listen with new ears.
What is it about these storiesthat travel through all these yearsand stages of humanity?
That fact alone points tosome kind of undeniable validity.
Then came the lighting of the candles,and the lights came down.
They lit the beginning of each row,and the flame was shared.
There was a mention of Matthew 5:15:
Neither do men light a candle and put it under a bushel,but on a candlestick, and it giveth light unto all that are in the house.
It made me think that this is indeed my work —to get past my own internal demons.
The ones that would have me extinguish my light or hide.The ones that have succeeded in doing that in the past.
To find a way to overcome the challenges of this worldand to share your light.To light another candle by example.To be inspired — and to inspire.
I’m sitting at the crossroads of life,between my elderly parents and my four-year-old.
An interesting perspective —to be the balance bar in between.
Christmas landed extra hard this year.
Singing the hymns without any sense of irony, really.Life staring at me directly.As if to say: why would anyone hide their light?
Life is simply not long enough to justify that.We are but the flicker of the flame.
My daughter, fidgety and playful,tried to blow out my candle.I had to hold it up into the skyto make sure her breath couldn’t reach it.
Another symbol bloomed in my mind.(Oh, would you stop, I thought. Does everything need to be poetry?)
But it is.
Life is a mosaic of meaning.It’s a challenge to be conscious enough to perceive it —but far more fun than being asleep to it.
I held the candle higher.She giggled and kept trying to blow it out.
I smiled and played with herwhile trying to quiet her down.
And inside, I thanked herfor making me hold my light a little higher.
Merry Christmas.
