Checking My Light

From this sad picture, it should be blatantly apparent I am not a compulsive stringer-of-Christmas-lights, right? It’s pretty obvious I’m oblivious as to how to store them! I do not like putting the lights on a Christmas tree {or taking them off}. I would rather hang a string of that old-fashioned tinsel on every twig of every branch than try to weave strings of lights through all those branches. Just owning what is.

Don’t identify me as a total Scrooge too quickly, though. I like lights ON the Christmas tree. I like houses decorated with lights as well. And, just for the record, I did convince LOML to put a string or two of brightly colored lights on the outside of our house – ONCE. They stayed up so long that when he took them down, they were no longer brightly colored but actually colorless.

Okay. Judge me.

Because of the start of the “Light the World” campaign, I have been pondering {rather deeply some moments} as to what Little-Old-Me could do that would be of any notice in a worldwide light. I think I got my answer when I came across this wad of old Christmas lights.

Back in the day, I remember my mother going through an entire string trying to find the one light that had burned out and was, therefore, keeping the entire lot of lights dark. It was frustrating. It was downright grueling at times. So I decided I should check my personal string of lights and find out which ones are either burned out or on their last leg and are ultimately keeping the rest of me from shining as brightly as I was created to shine. Find those bulbs, work on fixing them and then maybe the string of Little-Old-Me lights would actually make a visible difference in a worldwide light.

Growing up, my mother had a small green binder where she kept inspirational thoughts and stories. Many of them were handwritten. Some were typed – once we acquired a typewriter. One of my favorite stories from that binder was of little boy in London.

This boy would stand by the shore with a torch. As people got off the boats in this dark, foggy country, he would offer to lead them to their destinations for a coin or two. On a particular night, the boy was approached my an older gentleman who gladly offered the necessary coins – and then some – if the boy would please lead him to his place of lodging. Happily the boy turned and began walking towards the gentleman’s destination. Upon their arrival, the boy turned around to collect the gentleman’s money. He was astonished at what he saw. There was not just the kindly gentleman waiting to give him money. There was a small group of people, all with coins in their hands, thanking the boy for guiding them through the unfamiliar darkness.

The moral of the story is you never know who {or, in this case, how many} are being guided by the light you are offering them.

So, maybe the brighter my little bundle of lights is, the more others will follow me {hopefully to well-lit destinations} and maybe I will be able to influence others to brighten their lights as well – and on and on and on.

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