The Fireplace and the Candle

Then the Lord said to Elijah, “Go, stand in front of me on the mountain. I, the Lord, will pass by you.” Then a very strong wind blew. The wind caused the mountains to break apart. It broke large rocks...But that wind was not the Lord. After that wind, there was an earthquake. But that earthquake was not the Lord. After the earthquake, there was a fire. But that fire was not the Lord. After the fire, there was a quiet, gentle voice.

(1 Kings 19:11, 12)

(c) 2017 Larry Pizzi (via Prisma)

The Fireplace and the Candle
​
I like my fireplace--

     Warmth with light and sound.
     (Three to one over my furnace!)

Sometimes, Lord, you are my fireplace.

     The warmth drawing me near
     The light--now brightly fascinating, now glowing and comforting
     The sounds--my favorite part--unpredictable, surprising, cracks, pops and bangs

So very alive and vital. Sound with a dash of fury:

     Laughter or sobbing
     A friendly greeting or a rebuke
     Wisely spoken words (apples of gold, according to Solomon)
     My wife's prayers over me and mine over her.

The audible liturgy of my life.

(c) 2017 Larry Pizzi (via Prisma)

More often, though, you are my candle.

Like the little votive in the deeply etched heavy red glass on my desk.
(I light it for prayer time--or when I just want to sit and think,
​         maybe jot down a few thoughts.)

     A little light,
     A little warmth,
     And silence.

Its silent flaring and flickering become

     The back and forth of my prayer
     The up and down of my mood
     The to and fro of my relationships
     The ebb and flow of my life.

I learn from the wax and the wick:
​united, they receive your flame and gladden the space around them with

     A little light,
     A little warmth,
     And silence.

My fireplace is nice, and has its season, but mostly I prefer my candle.
No rousing to stoke, prod, poke and feed it, to get it just right.

Just me and a candle. I sit back and we meet

     In the light
     In the warmth
     But mostly in the silence.

(c) 2017 Larry Pizzi