The Candle
I used to think I needed to figure it all out. Find my purpose, map my path, become something worthy of the life I was given.
But somewhere along the way I started to see it differently.
Maybe I am not the architect of this. Maybe I never was.
So much of what I have — the skills, the timing, the people, the moments that cracked something open in me — came not from my own doing but from grace I did not manufacture and coincidences I did not plan. I just happened to be present. I just happened to respond.
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And maybe that is enough. Maybe that is the whole thing.
I think of myself now as a small candle. Not a floodlight. Not a stage. Just a small, steady flame — warm to the people close to me, present in the room I am actually in, faithful to the light I have been given.
I am not here to blind anyone with brilliance. I am here to be genuine. To reflect something true. To slowly, imperfectly, become more of what I was originally made to be — not by my own effort alone, but by grace working through my willingness.
Not perfect. Just present.
Not loud. Just warm.
And hopefully — one small light at a time — that is enough to matter.
