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That was the thought that went through my mind when I walked out of my office mid afternoon. I had been watching about twelve men in The Open Shelter working since 10:00AM designing, making and putting up Christmas decorations. Some were reminiscing about the last time they created such masterpieces. Years, years, and years ago. For me, it seemed that long ago, and give or take a few for any one of them.
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I don’t blame anyone for assuming that thought of mine to be cynical. As soon as I thought it, I reminded myself that I’ve been too grumpy and negative the past few months. But, as I watched men climbing and reaching to get those paper chains up, taping those snowflakes to the wall, putting those lights in their Christmas tree top and smiling, I felt as though I was being reminded of something.
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. . .
I remembered Christmas Eve candle light services. Towards the end of the service, the lights go out. Someone lights one candle. That candle lights a candle. Then that candle lights another candle, and the process continues until the room is filled with an awesome glow of people.
And yet, as powerful as the room looks when the last candle is lit, there is a power in that first candle being lit, as well. The lights go out. The sound of “Silent Night” very gently resounds in the darkness. The room is dark . . . It’s dark . . . It’s dark. I think we all know the look of dark. And then, that first candle is lit. That is what is extraordinary to me. No matter how large the room has been, no matter how dark, dark has been, I could always see that one lit candle. In fact, the darker the room, the better I would notice that one small lit candle. So the fascination is not just with the many candles that light the room, but also with the one that pierces the darkness. And my attention strays from the look of dark to that one bit of light.
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They were involved in Christmas. They weren’t just watching it. They weren’t just waiting for supporters of the shelter to do it for them. They were involved in Christmas. They reminded themselves of their past Christmases, the ones that were joyful, pleasant and fun. They added their own light to a dreary place. For those moments, they were enjoying Christmas. And for this moment, I can’t help but notice that little bit of light these men have lit in a dark, dreary place.
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Make your Christmas special.
Rick Scott
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