The Evening Lamp

My boys,

There is a lamp I turn on before the room is completely dark.

I like that moment.

Outside, October is disappearing.

The trees become silhouettes.

The windows stop showing the yard and begin reflecting the house back at us.

Inside, one small circle of light appears.

Nothing else changes.

The whole room is not illuminated.

Only enough of it.

Enough to see the book in my hands.

Enough to find the coffee beside me.

Enough for one of you to come sit nearby without asking whether you can.

I used to think light was supposed to defeat darkness.

Maybe sometimes it is.

But this lamp doesn't.

Darkness remains in every corner beyond its reach.

And somehow that does not bother me.

The lamp is not trying to light the whole house.

It is doing what it was made to do.

I think there is something there for us.

You will not fix everything.

You will not help everyone.

You will not understand every problem.

You will not carry light into every dark place you encounter.

You were never asked to.

But there will be a small circle around you.

Your family.

Your friends.

Your work.

The stranger standing directly in front of you.

The responsibility God placed in your hands today.

Give light there.

Be warm there.

Be useful there.

And when the world beyond your reach remains dark, resist the arrogance of believing it was yours to illuminate alone.

Tonight, the lamp glows beside my chair.

One of you is reading on the floor beneath it.

Neither of us says anything.

Outside, night finishes arriving.

Inside, there is enough light.

I love you.

— Baba

Question:

What is inside the small circle of your responsibility today?

Moral:

You do not need enough light for the whole road. Be faithful with the light you have, where you are.

This story reflects real experiences and philosophies behind Backyard Brew. It is shared to preserve perspective, faith, contentment, and intention.

Author: R. Solace