The Lights

On a few nights in the last week I've been out after dark. For several weeks in December the roads were lit up with lights in all ranges of color and design, some twinkling, some dangling, some sitting silently, emitting a bold glow.

Since the days after Christmas, these lights have begun to disappear back into their worn cardboard boxes or twisted in ropes to fit into squeaky-new plastic containers. Only a very solitary few are left. The blinking ones were the first to go, followed by all the bright colors. Now in the middling weeks of January all that are left of the profuse holiday display are white candles in windows and white icicle lights on eaves.

The local paper said our heavy fall of early winter snow stuck around past a proper snow's welcome. I suppose that might account for the length of time some of these lights have been up. I disagree with the paper's assessment of an appropriate amount of time for snow to settle over the landscape, and I'm not sure that that is the true reason the last vestiges of holiday cheer are hanging around, either.

Despite the horrible news coming from Haiti in the aftermath of the earthquake, there are still points of light and grace coming out: people gathering money to purchase aid, others gathering themselves in order to sacrifice their time and energies on the ground. Just as the lights continue to hang, emanating their bright glow against the pressing darkness of the night around them, so too does everyone who prays, gives, and hopes for the future of Haiti shine against the darkness which is pressing ever more down on her people.

We are ever in need of them. Thank you for being a light.