Morning Hope

In the sweet stillness of early morning I light a candle.

There’s nothing special about a bit of white wax and a wick in a small glass container but as the flame flickers it casts a glow where I need one.

Come . . .

There’s nothing magical about it; it is the hope candle because it’s the first one I reached for this morning.

Come . . . 

I pray: replace the heaviness in my heart with hope.

Come . . .

And this room—where white lights on the non traditional tree flicker and coloured lights from my neighbour’s house reflect on the window, where the Keurig spits coffee and my bare foot brushes on a crumb on the floor—is made holy.


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.
  1. Two candles sit side by side on my coffee table: one apple cider, the other cranberry-pine. I’m leaning more toward pine today. I’m glad I get to choose.

    Happy Monday, Linda. Enjoy this holy season.

  2. a beautiful reflection, a sacred moment.

    lighting a candle with you, Linda …

  3. Although we celebrated the first Sunday of Advent through virtual worship, I find greater hope and comfort here with you, the coffee brewing, lights reflecting all over, and brushing against crumbs in the kitchen. Humbling yet holy.

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