Vitamin Luminate

Luminarias line our driveway

And countless other driveways, city-wide.

They give off a feeble light.
Yellow, muted inside the brown paper bags

in which they sit.

They are tethered to earth by the slightest of things -

a small scoop of sand in each bag. This alone keeps them

from blowing away with each gust Christmas-time wind.

It is enough.

They stay,

stable,

their slender flames not wavering enough

to ignite their paper bags and consume them.

This must have been what it was like for Him.

Long ago.

He did not know it, of course.

For, on the one hand, He was just a baby,

born in a sleepy, anonymous town.

But on the other - on the other hand, He was more.

Humble, yes - rooted to earth, yes.

But possessed of a Power so great that it could have

illuminated His whole surroundings, consumed them

in a glory of flames in one instant.

It did not.

He, like the luminarias, simply stayed lit.

His light looking feeble to many

through the muting lens of this world.

And yet - His light gave with it an invitation.

Like every candle, everywhere, it held warmth.

Come.

Luminarias line my driveway.
They shine, ever so simply, next to the brighter, gaudier, lights of this season:

Lights that need cords, outlets, power.

But in their simplicity,

they attract those who are seeking.

They send out His message, after all -

a message meant for the simple, the humble, the seekers.

Tonight, they have sent it to me.