Sunday, July 5, 2015
The Dark Candle
A man had a little daughter, an only and much beloved child.
He lived only for her, she was his life. So when she became ill and her illness
resisted the efforts of the best obtainable physicians, he became like a man
possessed, moving heaven and earth to bring about her restoration to health.
His best efforts proved fruitless, however, and the child
died. The father was totally irreconcilable. He became a bitter recluse,
shutting himself away from his many friends, refusing every activity that might
restore his poise and bring him back to his normal self.
Then one night he had a dream. He was in heaven and
witnessing a grand pageant of all the little child angels. They were marching
in an apparently endless line past the Great White Throne. Every white-robed,
angelic tot carried a candle. He noticed, however, that one child’s candle was
not lit.
Then he saw that the child with the dark candle was his own
little girl. Rushing towards her, while the pageant faltered, he seized her in
his arms, caressed her tenderly, and asked, “How is that your candle is the
only one not lit?” “Father, they often relight it, but your tears always put it
out again,” she said.
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