Unlit candle

A man had a little daughter — an only and much-beloved child. He lived 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 unavailing and the child died.

The father was totally irreconcilable. He became a bitter recluse, shutting himself away from

his many friends and refusing every activity that might restore his poise and bring him back to his normal self.

But one night he had a dream. He was in heaven, and was witnessing a grand pageant of all the little child angels. They were marching in an apparently endless line past the Great White Throne. Every white-robed angelic tot carried a candle. He noticed that one child’s candle was not lit. Then he saw that the child with the dark candle was his own little girl.

Rushing to her, he seized her in his arms, caressed her tenderly, and then asked, “How is it, darling that your candle alone is unlit?”

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

Just then he awoke from his dream. The lesson was crystal clear, and its effects were immediate. From that hour on he was not 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. — Strickland Gillilan