This Little Light of Mine

It is a gorgeous day here. Our family made it out the door for church this morning on time without much turmoil or fuss - which is somewhat of a miracle in and of itself. The service was good... Pastor's message was about balancing work, worship and rest in our lives.

My husband and I took the time our children attend Bible study to prepare for our Sunday lunch. (Our little guy is not yet excited about staying in the nursery and it makes it easier for the nursery volunteer coordinator to find workers if we don't leave him in their care for extended periods of time.)

As we drove out of the parking lot, I was giggling and grinning and feeling oh, so fine. My heart was merry for I had enjoyed the opportunity to smile upon people and share my genuine interest in their well being. I just love it when the Lord removes the hindrances that often keep my light from shining brightly.

Returning to fetch children, my husband's cell phone rang. Our oldest wanted to request once again permission to go and do what we had already disallowed. Upon arrival, we learned of an "issue" regarding one of the other children. After circling the building repetitively in something that must look like a strange rendition of Duck, Duck, Goose to the rest of the congregation, we finally collected all the bodies that share our last name and loaded up for the trip home to be piloted by our "student driver."

Warning to parents... it IS mandatory that you teach your children the meaning of "left" and "right." Our daughter heard us implore her to navigate to the left of the lane no less than a dozen times over the 10 mile journey. Each of our requests became more and more emphatic as our patience for her inexplicable desire to drive with the right tires hanging off the roadway refused to be thwarted. Hence, I've determined that she must not have "left" and "right" fully ingrained in her brain.

By the time we arrived - my light was snuffed out. The past days have offered little in the way of deep sleep or tranquil moments. It seems to be a season characterized by disharmony among the children as well as a pervasive sense of self entitlement among the kids that leads to my husband and I feeling drained and perplexed. As a result, I let my lamp oil run out and the light I celebrated earlier had not a chance of being lit again in the hours that followed.

Now that the day is winding to a close, I find myself reflecting on how and why I completely failed to protect "this little light of mine." And, against the advice of the song I learned so very many years ago... I let Satan blow it out.

The lesson here is, one, to guard against the wind that is sure to blow. It doesn't take a tornado... just the breezes of life will rob a flame from a lamp. That's why cleaver inventors put globes of glass around the flame. We, too, must consciously construct barriers and have them in place before the gusts threaten to snuff out our lamp.

And, secondly, we must make sure to fill our lamps with fuel before the "night" comes so we don't find ourselves stumbling in the dark trying to see our way out of a bad attitude while being bumped and bruised on our path to higher ground.