Orthodox Christian, widowed in 2015; mother, grandmother. Love to read, garden, cook, write letters and a hundred other home-making activities.
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More than ten years ago I first posted this poem, after my late husband and I had been laughing over Cope’s poetry while drinking our morning coffee.
Now, I’m amused, and wondering, at how fast January has gone by. Because time, and the unstilled wheel still turning. We may as well keep a sense of humor about it!
As part of our celebration of the Feast of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple, in the Orthodox Church we bless candles. Maybe some other Christian traditions still do this, as it is the ancient feast of Candlemas, and many cultures and nations have their many practices around it. I’d be interested to hear of any that linger among my readers’ communities.
As to candles, I found this helpful article from St. Gabriel Orthodox Church in Ashland, Oregon, about some of the symbolism in our use of of them, “handed down to us from St. Symeon of Thessaloniki (c. 1381–1429).”
1 – As the candle is pure (pure beeswax), so also should our hearts be pure.
2 – As the pure candle is supple (as opposed to the paraffin), so also should our souls be supple until we make it straight and firm in the Gospel.
3 – As the pure candle is derived from the pollen of a flower and has a sweet scent, so also should our souls have the sweet aroma of Divine Grace.
4 – As the candle, when it burns, mixes with and feeds the flame, so also we must struggle to achieve theosis.
5 – As the burning candle illuminates the darkness, so must the light of Christ within us shine before men that God’s name be glorified.
6 – As the candle gives its own light to illuminate a man in the darkness, so also must the light of the virtues, the light of love and peace, characterize a Christian. The wax that melts symbolizes the flame of our love for our fellow men.
So let us pray that the Light of Christ may illumine us as well!
Frost is forecast for next week, but today, this is what it looks like at my place. I’m picking early asparagus, and spotted two Christmas cactus blooms. It’s perfectly balmy. I should be taking advantage of the warmth outdoors to clean out the greenhouse and set up its heater for when winter descends again.
Contrary to my recent posting about the dead feeling of winter, I was for several days experiencing living “streams in the desert” that were, I realize now, an onflowing of Theophany grace. It was rain, rain, rain, and when it fell on a real live desert in southern Nevada, I felt the rivers as symbolic and real, all mixed together.
At the end of last week I flew to visit church friends who not long ago settled in that state, a large homeschooling family whom I’d been longing to see. We had planned that on Monday we’d make an outing to Valley of Fire State Park in the Mojave Desert. It was raining, but in such a dry climate I assumed the precipitation would be light, or fleeting. We all donned our rain gear; I wore a light shell over my sweater, and wished later that I had put on my longer raincoat.
The rainfall was fairly constant, though not ever heavy, and I managed to take plenty of pictures without wrecking my phone. My Newly Nevadan hosts had visited this park many times, but never before when the landscape was wet, with the colors popping out dramatically, highlighting the lines and textures of giant rocks sloping every which way, and towering above us.
Everywhere we looked, there was a new vista of pink and red and purple, and even yellow. This scene got my attention because the grass seemed to be reflecting the yellow stripes behind — and look! blue sky:
A couple of the children scrambled up higher than the adults (like the bighorn sheep that we saw in the scene at the top of this page — but they are probably too distant to notice in the picture.) and the toddler was pleased with the chance to toddle through pink sand and over flat stones on the trail. I was shown the field of marble-like pebbles and heard the theory of how they were formed, from erosion of aggregate rock nearby:
Our company was dripping and soggy by the time we got back in the car after our excursion, but everyone was cheerful. We had breathed gallons of refreshment, and feasted our eyes on the loveliest colors and forms of Creation. Showers of blessing had fallen on us and made us glorious.
Gladsome Lights 