Once upon a time I shared a home with someone who hated heat, especially at night. As much as I tried, in that relationship I couldn't win the fight for warmth. So during the winter months when the temperature dropped, our home felt like an icebox. I slept in layers, my feet in woolen socks, my hat covered head buried under a pile of downy blankets. Even so, my extremities were never warm unless I took a hot shower. In the early morning as I dressed for work, I could see my breath in the indoor chill. I can easily say those were the darkest, coldest years of my life and for a long time, I couldn't see a way out. But through it all, I carried a spark— a flicker of hopeful possibility. It waited to be fueled by courageous breath, by my desire for something more life-giving and life-sustaining, Eventually that single inner spark swelled from the center of my being. It radiated into a roaring, brilliant flame that lit my path to personal freedom.
I believe we all have an inner spark, the ability to make and offer hopeful light. May we be generous with that gift— for ourselves, for our dearest ones, for the world.