The Light You Carry Inside

My boys,

There is a small flame burning in the dark.

Nothing remarkable.

A single wick.

A little oil.

A quiet yellow light.

It does not reach very far.

The corners of the room remain dark.

The windows are black.

Beyond the glass, November has settled into the night.

But the flame holds.

I watch it for a while.

It moves when the air moves.

Leans.

Straightens.

Sometimes it becomes so small I think it might disappear.

Then it rises again.

I have been thinking about the lights we depend on.

The lamp beside the chair.

The porch light left burning for someone coming home.

The headlights showing just enough road to continue.

All useful.

All necessary in their own way.

But every one of them eventually goes out.

The lamp is switched off.

The porch light burns until morning.

The headlights disappear when the journey ends.

And a man is left with himself.

That is when another kind of light matters.

The one he carries inside.

I do not mean happiness.

Happiness changes with circumstances.

I do not mean confidence.

There will be days when you have very little of it.

I mean something quieter.

Faith that remains when you cannot see what God is doing.

Gratitude that survives a disappointing day.

A conscience that lets you lie down without having to explain away who you have become.

The willingness to tell the truth.

The strength to forgive.

The humility to begin again.

These things do not make the world less dark.

They keep the darkness from deciding who you become.

And they need tending.

A flame does not continue because you admire it.

It needs fuel.

So does the life inside you.

Prayer.

Honesty.

Good work.

Rest.

Repentance.

Keeping your word.

Remembering what you have been given.

Returning to God when you have wandered.

None of these things is especially impressive to watch.

That is part of their beauty.

A man can spend his entire life trying to become visible to the world while neglecting what must remain alive when nobody sees him.

I have made that mistake.

I have mistaken being busy for being well.

Being successful for being at peace.

Being needed for being whole.

And sometimes I have discovered that the outside of my life was brighter than the inside.

That is a difficult thing to admit.

But admitting it is one way of adding oil.

My boys,

do not wait until you are standing in darkness to begin caring for your light.

Tend it when life is good.

Tend it when prayers are easy.

Tend it when your family is near and your work is going well.

Because difficult seasons rarely announce how long they intend to stay.

And when they come, you will need something deeper than enthusiasm to carry you through.

Tonight, the little flame continues burning.

It has not conquered the room.

It has not changed the weather.

It has not made the night shorter.

It simply remains.

I think that is enough to ask of a light.

And sometimes, enough to ask of a man.

Not that he never bends.

Not that he never grows tired.

Not that he never needs someone else to help him keep going.

Only that he keeps returning to what gives his life warmth, direction, and truth.

The flame moves again.

For a moment, it is almost still.

Outside, the darkness remains.

Inside, something is being kept alive.

I love you.

— Baba

Question:

What are you doing each day to tend the light within you, especially when life gives you no reason to feel bright?

Moral:

The strongest light a man carries is not his happiness, success, or certainty. It is the faith, gratitude, and integrity he continues to tend when circumstances grow dark.

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

Author: R. Solace