A Candle in the Window

words for when you're tired

The tradition of lighting a candle in the window dates back centuries. In Ireland, under British penal law, a candle signaled that it was safe for a persecuted priest to slip inside under cover of darkness. (When suspicions were raised, they said the candle was in honor of the nativity.) The tradition evolved to simply show that there was refuge inside for any lonely traveler.

In Germany, families lit candles for miners finding their way home in the dark after hours of work underground. As the tradition made its way across the Atlantic to the colonies with Irish and German families, candles in windows served as beacons to the community. They were a reminder that although their homes were far apart, there was light, guidance, and warmth along the way as they traveled to visit their neighbors.

Ultimately, a candle in a window has always been a way of combatting loneliness, cold, fear, and darkness. The tiny flame says, “I see you. I’m here. It’s safe.”

Are you tired?

I wrote a letter this summer about “doing it scared.” I hope you were able to read that one. I also hope that whatever it was, you’re doing it and you’re doing okay. But sometimes we’re more exhausted than we are scared. It takes just as much courage—maybe even more—to keep going once we’ve begun.

When that heartbreak…exhaustion…diagnosis…loss…isn’t going anywhere, it can seem impossible to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Some fatigue is physical and mental. Other times, it’s an aching in our soul from an impossibly gaping hole, ripped by the brokenness we encounter. And it’s wearying to realize that even as the hole becomes invisible to others, the scar will still be tender as we walk.

When it feels like you have nothing left to give, or there are still no easy answers, please remember you’re not alone.

I’ve been reading A Tale of Two Trees by Matthew Clark. It’s the second book in his trio of books and albums, The Well Trilogy. He says about faith-keeping,

“When I forget the lyrics, remind me. When you break a guitar string, somebody will have an extra one. When we forget the face and smile of Jesus who died for us, we can each offer our best imitation of Christ to help each other remember that this is real.”

We’re not alone when we’re weary. We have each other to help us find our way, like so many candle flames. We’re also following in the footsteps of One who walked the same cold road.

In this season of candlelight, our words, text messages, hugs, gifts, friendship, and community can give us more strength and (en)courage(ment) than we know. Please remind me, and I’ll remind you.