There’s A Candle in the Window There’s A Candle in the Window © 2014 Les Jordan Jr. We were gathered together the week before Christmas in 1992. The decorations were being placed all around the house by my children and my fiancée and her daughter. It was a challenging time in my life, as it has been for most of my life.
The radio was tuned to a favorite local station that played Christmas music non-stop. After I took the photo of the kids gathered around the Advent wreath, I pointed my camera at the tall bay window where our Christmas tree resided. I snapped a photo of a candle decoration that was hung centered in that window. It was made of melted plastic by Ginny as a school project. It was very precious to me, and Ginny.
I had succeeded in setting my son free from his abusive environment, but my daughter had chosen to remain where she was at instead of returning to the safety of her dad. It broke my heart. I smiled as the decorations were placed around the tree and on the walls of the apartment. I wasn’t smiling on the inside. I didn’t know it, but, I was hoping – I was hoping for the safety and return of my daughter. All I could do is pray, and smile. We lit the Advent wreath that Ginny had made at Girl Scouts when she was younger, and I took some photos of all of us, our faces lit up by the gentle candle light. Inside, I prayed. I prayed with all my heart. I watched the expressions in the children’s eyes. They were praying, too. They, also, were praying with all their heart.
It was even more precious because it was through that very same window that I had my Epiphany in 1988 that was the start of the moment I learned to love myself. It was an area where the kids loved tom play. It was an area that I loved to watch when they were there. It was an area that I looked deeply at as I prayed for their safety and return.
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Remarkably, as I pointed the camera at the sacred window and at the candle in that window, an appropriate song began to play. It was a popular country song: “There’s a Candle in the Window.” My spirit resonated, burning as brightly and as warmly as the candle in the window. I wasn’t exactly clear what the meaning was, just that something remarkable was transforming an otherwise simple moment into something that has unforgettably lived in my heart timelessly and permanently ever since. Many Christmases have passed since then. I thought often of the Candle in the Window but never deciphered why it resonated so strongly with me. And then this Christmas arrived and a flood of insights miraculously came to visit my heart. Answers unfolded. Miracles emanated like lit candles all about me. A letter arrived from daughter, Virginia, the daughter that chose to stay in the unhealthy environment. She now struggles to put her life together. She struggles to understand her own heart and purpose for existence. There are signs that she is succeeding, a slow process of healing that starts first with forgiveness for her and toward others.
me as my life blended and merged. The synchronicity of messages from my daughter that reflected actual events transforming in my life were happening more frequently. I knew that a miracle was unfolding. There was LIGHT! A few days later I wrote how Hope had returned in my life. It came during the Christmas Eve church service as I sat holding a lit candle in my right hand as I sat beside a friend who had explained to me a week earlier that light seemed to radiate out of my photos as though the photo was producing the source of the light. According to her, it was a reflection of the light within me. I was astonished and humbly thankful. Virginia’s Christmas letter with the drawing of the candle arrived the next day. A miracle unfolded again. I quietly and clearly heard inside my spirit that the meaning of the candle in the window was “HOPE.” In 1992 hope was at work praying for the return of my daughter. Hope was again present in 2014. There’s a Candle in the Window!”
As I read her letter I was moved by her words. One page after another passed by my eyes and then I came to a drawing that she had made especially for me; it was a lighted candle with brilliant color all around.
I immediately thought of the “Candle in the Window” that mysteriously touched me over twenty years ago. I felt gentle tears touching my cheeks. I knew something was being transformed. Yet, I still could not define it. The days prior to the arrival of Virginia’s letter were filled with messages of light that came from friends and within
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