Parents were invited to come watch as our children walked the spiral of boughs laid out on the floor in a darkened room with a beautiful lyre being played in the corner. After the children arrived and were seated across from us, one by one, each child was handed a red apple holding an unlit candle. Following the example of their teacher, each boy or girl reverently carried their candle along the path to the spiral's center where a larger lit candle burned atop a tree stump. There, the apple candles were lit from the existing flame and, somewhere along the path back out of the spiral, the children placed their apple candles wherever they chose on one of the many golden stars along the path. With each new candle the room brightened slightly and, in the end, the spiral glowed amidst a palpable sense of wonder.
In our class, my daughter was the only child who refused to take part in this beautiful event. She wouldn't get out of her seat.
Not with her lovely teacher.
Not with me.
She does, of late, have an inexplicable aversion to candles. Perhaps that was it. Perhaps it was something else. No one pushed it. She shared the experience even if she didn't take the steps herself I thought and I know now that something of it is working in her still...
The gift of light we shall thankfully take
But it shall not be alone for our sake
The more we give light, the one to the other
It grows and gives light, and shines even farther.