tear

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 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 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 little girl.

Rushing towards her, while the pageant faltered, he seized her in his arms, caressed her tenderly, and asked, “How is it that your candle is the only one not lit?”

“Father, they often relight it, but your tears always put it out again,” she said.

Just then he awoke from his dream.

The lesson was crystal clear, and its effects were immediate.

From that hour on he was no longer a recluse but mingled freely and cheerfully with his former friends and associates.

No longer would his little darling’s candle be extinguished by his useless tears.