Keeping the light alive
Dear Friend,
When I was a child, my two brothers and I often visited our grandmother Rosina who lived in the very heart of Padua. Her home stood just a few steps from the Palazzo della Ragione, the great civic and judicial hall that has stood over the city since the early 1200s.
Beneath its vast upper chamber – once the seat of the city court – stretches a covered market filled with long corridors and small shops, much as it has been for centuries. It was there that Grandma kept her little shop where she sold all kinds of wicker goods: baskets of every shape and size, cradles for babies, garden chairs and tables, even handbags and decorative boxes.
Grandma Rosina was deeply devout, and every religious feast became an opportunity for her to teach us something special. I remember that on February 2 – the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord – she would take out a beeswax candle she kept carefully tucked away in a kitchen cupboard.
“This candle,” she would say, “was blessed last year. And today it will burn again to remind us that the Light who came into the world when Jesus was born still shines among us.”
After saying this, she would light the candle and place it in a small glass lantern, setting it on the tiny balcony that overlooked the narrow street – one of the oldest in Padua, so narrow that I imagine very few people ever noticed its faint glow.
“Remember,” Grandma Rosina would tell us, “even when everything seems dark, God never stops working.”
At the time, I didn’t really understand her words. But now, whenever February returns, I think of that small flame on her narrow balcony – a fragile star against the grey sky. And I realize she was teaching us something profound: that faith is not a blaze of glory, but a quiet light that keeps burning when everything else grows cold.
The Feast of the Presentation, or Candlemas, comes exactly forty days after Christmas. It’s the moment when Mary and Joseph brought the Child Jesus to the Temple, and the aged Simeon, upon seeing Him, proclaimed, “A light for revelation to the Gentiles, and glory for your people Israel.”
It’s as if Christmas, before fading into memory, leaves us a gift – a spark of divine light to carry us through the rest of winter.
Perhaps, like me, you have known seasons of coldness – times when prayer felt difficult, when faith seemed dim, when life’s burdens grew heavy. In those moments, remember the candle of faith that God placed within you at Baptism. It may flicker, but it never goes out, for it is nourished by His grace.
Sometimes a simple gesture is enough to rekindle that flame – a whispered prayer upon waking, a visit to someone who feels lonely, a word of forgiveness, a smile freely offered.
The world needs people who can keep their small lights burning – not because they are strong, but because they trust the One who said, “I am the light of the world.”
When I think of my grandmother now, I see her as one of those humble keepers of the flame –simple, steadfast, and luminous. She never sought attention, never wrote a book, never travelled far, yet through her quiet faith, she brought light to the hearts around her. And that, I believe, is what holiness truly is: the gentle radiance of love lived day by day.
So, my friend, as we journey through these last weeks of winter, let us keep our candles burning – in our families, in our communities, in our workplaces. Even the smallest flame can lead someone out of the darkness.
Peace and all good,
Updated on January 30 2026