be the candle.

One day I prayed a prayer, Lord, light a candle within that person over there, a small flame to warm the heart.  

I prayed that prayer and waited.  Somewhat impatiently.  

I prayed again, Lord, light a candle within--a flame of hope to warm and encourage.  And I waited.

Then I woke in the night, the prayer ready to be sent to heaven once more--when the answer came.

'You be the candle. You be a light.  Let another step into its glow and gain courage.'

And my prayer was changed.

Lord make me a candle.
Kindle a flame to warm the heart.

-lindasinklings

early train.

We took the early train and watched as houses with elbow room slipped past and grew tight in the shoulders.  Pulled into the station and started to walk, looking for coffee, the first part of any adventure.  Starbucks was directly ahead--and a quirky French cafe with a community table on the corner.  

We chose quirky.  A place inviting conversation.  No hiding behind earphones in this spot.  It was filled with quiet talk, quiet introspection, reading, and belgian waffles.  

The coffee took me back to a tiny shop in my sister's town in Switzerland.  Strong, dark and rich. It said, 'Drink me, a cup at a time, but don't hurry.  I am not brewed for styrofoam.'

So we sat at an old wooden table, my daughter and I, on the beginning of this perfect day in Philadelphia.  

And I was thankful.

Here is the link just in case you find yourself on the same corner in need of a little civilization in the midst of chaos:

Le Pain Quotidien

-lindasinklings