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I awoke last night in the earliest hours of the morning as I
often do. It is so very silent at that time. So still. A time that sets
the conditions for a memory to start as a tiny little light and then floods my
mind and enters my heart.
I sat up on the edge of the bed and reached for my robe and
put on my slippers to ward off the chill in the air. It was unnecessary to turn
on the light as the neighborhood street lamps gave a soft glow calling me to
the window. I looked out at the winter scene. The lights illuminated the snow
covered roofs and yards and trees and the parked cars and empty roads. The temperature was still plummeting and I
thought how dangerous it would be to be out there instead of warm and cozy
inside. The very thought made me pull the robe more tightly around
me.
And then in a twinkling I was drawn into the memory of the
story of Hans Christian Andersen’s “Little Match Girl”. It was my very favorite childhood story. I had
it read and reread to me by Mother or Dad or any grown up that would take the
time until I could finally read it myself.
It was on a night like tonight that the wee little girl
dressed in rags and barefoot (because she lost her mother’s shoes that were too
large for her tiny feet, while running across a busy snowy street) huddled in a
corner between buildings trying to stay warm. As she looked up toward the heavens a shooting
star sparkled across the dark night sky and she whispered as she always had since
her dear grandmother had explained, “Oh, a shooting star, that means another happy soul has gone to heaven.”
She had been trying and trying to sell her little bundles of
matches so that she could take money back to her family who were freezing and
hungry inside their tiny home without food or a fire in the hearth to keep them warm. The
people on the street had been uncaring and even rude to her, not giving her the
time let alone the small amount she requested for matches as they scurried
along to their warm homes that were waiting with a roaring fire in their
fireplaces and tables set with luscious smelling food.
She was so very cold and although she didn’t want to waste
the matches she finally decided to light just one to see if it would warm her
fingers. As she struck the match she saw through the flame a beautiful
fireplace that seemed to warm her inside and out, it was so very pleasant and
comforting but it disappeared when the match burned out. She quickly struck another match and this
time as the flame illuminated the wall it was as if she could see inside and there
was a table set with white linen and silver plates and crystal goblets and such
wonderful food! But again it disappeared
when the flame fizzled down and puffed out. Again she lit a match from a bundle
and a beautiful Christmas tree appeared within the match’s glow covered in
candles to warm her heart and delight her soul but that too faded as the match
burned out. Another match sparked into a flame and her cherished departed Grandmother
appeared. Oh how warm her hug was to the little girl. But in an instant she too
was gone. Wanting nothing more than to see her grandmother again the little girl
struck all of the remaining matches and there she was, the beloved old lady.
With all of the love and warmth that the little girl could imagine, the
grandmother took her by the hand and led her to heaven. The next morning the people on the street
found the little girl with a smile on her face and the burnt matches in her
hand. They felt terrible that they hadn’t shown her any compassion.
It occurred to me as I remembered each detail of the story I
had loved so many many years ago that these little memories of Dale that awaken me at
night or pop into my mind at lonely times are like little matches springing
into a warm light that bring me comfort and happiness if only for a
minute. For a moment in time I am
walking hand in hand with Dale visiting a castle in Ireland, or walking
barefoot in the sand on a Hawaiian beach or watching our sons play baseball, or
the magic moment of our first meeting.
Precious little snippets of happiness that keep me warm until the time arrives that he comes for me in answer to my own shooting star.
And in the meantime, I have a dear family that shows me
compassion and love and keeps me safe and warm.
I am blessed.
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