I’m writing this post, as I write many posts, with a candle burning on the table beside me. Today it’s a tall vanilla column, which gives off more light than scent, but I like the cheery flicker and the sense of peace it creates. I lit it against the grey day outside, with cold sleet-rain dashing up against the windowpanes. And I lit it because of what Lauren Winner says, in her wise little book Mudhouse Sabbath:
You don’t find candles lit in frenetic houses; you find them lit in houses where people are trying to pay attention.
It’s true, and it makes me wonder: what am I paying attention to when I light a candle?
Just now, of course, it’s my writing; I often light candles when I sit at our blond wood dining table, laptop in front of me, to blog or write articles or work on other projects (like my NaNoWriMo novel). Sometimes I light a candle, for scent or ambiance or just for fun, when J and I eat dinner together, sharing tidbits about our days. Each week at the beginning of our church service, we light the Christ candle to remind us of the true Light coming into the world. And sometimes I simply light a candle because I’ve had a hectic day or am feeling frantic in my spirit, and I need to calm down.
I’ll be lighting more candles as the days grow darker, and as the holidays approach – you can bet I’m stocking up on festive scents, from Leaves and Autumn to Cinnamon Stick and Spice. I’ll light them to make me smile, to fill the air with a delicious aroma, to combat the long grey days of winter that will last far longer than I want them to. But I’ll also light them to make me draw a deep breath – and remind me to pay attention to the work and the people I love.