Lamp Peddler, part 3

Martin returned home but was in no hurry to repair her lamp, for he wasn’t anxious to make the switch again. He set it on his mantle where he looked at it every day and thought of her. The winter was hard that year and he stayed home for a good stretch of time with nothing to occupy his life but thoughts of his customers in their homes, and the lamps he had brought into their lives. He thought mostly of her and reluctantly, just to fill the time, began working on her lamp. The chimney was completely black with soot, it was without oil and the wick was brittle from lack of use. He wondered how she thought it of any value and wondered why she hadn’t thrown it out. He polished it carefully, discovering the base was gilded with pure gold. He found it to be a sturdy lamp, designed to be functional and reliable. He replaced the wick and filled the base with the finest oil. The chimney alone took a whole day to clean, but he discovered the glass to be of the finest quality, without bubble or flaw and perfectly symmetrical. Certainly it had been made by a master craftsman. He struck a match to the wick, put the chimney in place, and set it back on the mantle. It was exquisite. Its light filled every corner of his room and illuminated something in the very center of his being. He felt alive. It had been quite some time since he had felt such joy, such peace. He knew why she had kept the lamp, there was a power in it. He didn’t understand it, but he felt it.

Martin kept her lamp a full year before he could muster the courage to take it back to her, for he had come to believe it was the very lamp that suited his needs. He was sorry that it did not belong to him; he was sorrier still that he would need to take back the lamp that had suited her so well. But he knew no other way, for she was too selfless to accept it without payment.

Before seeking her out at the little cottage, he stopped at the inn of her village and inquired after her.

“Oh, you’re talking about Mary! What a lady she is, very well-respected and loved in these parts. Why, you must’ve known her before she got the lamp, back when she lived with that ogre. You wouldn’t even recognize her now. They say it was that lamp that did it. She got a new lamp a while back from some peddler that came through town. She’d been close to death before he came, but began to recover when she got that new lamp. Like I said, you wouldn’t even recognize her. That Mary, great lady, she is.”

Martin was stunned. He had no idea what Mary had been through. An ogre. That explained why she stayed on the porch, when the custom is to receive peddlers into your home and offer them refreshment. That also explained the condition of lamp, for ogres despise light since it illuminates the truth about who they are. Then Martin grew uneasy, there were too many unanswered questions: where was the ogre now, how much does he know about the lamp and where it came from? Was the other lamp hers or his?

“Oh, no, what have I done?” Martin began to despair; it was never wise to mess with an ogre, particularly in the private matters within an ogre’s home.

He had been reluctant to tell the Maker about any of this, for customarily a peddler does not give away his wares, nor trade them in. He felt guilty for keeping her lamp for such a long time and guilty for wanting it for himself. Yet he felt more guilty at the thought of having to take away the special lamp that he knew of a surety was custom-made for Mary. Now to discover that an ogre was involved… Martin had no choice but to visit the Maker and find out what to do.

He took the old lamp with him to see the Maker. Tears were already in his eyes as he entered and without saying anything, he set the lamp on the workbench, and as the Maker looked up, Martin started to cry. The Maker took Martin in his arms and said nothing while he cried, then calmed. Then the Maker, looking at the lamp Martin brought, said, “You’ve found Mary!”

Martin, a puzzled look on his face, gazed into the Maker’s eyes, “You know Mary?”

“Of course I know Mary; I know my lamps, and I know who they belong to. This was the very first lamp you sold, remember?”

Martin searched his memory, “The young girl; it was to be a gift for her husband. Was the girl really Mary?”

“Yes, you DO remember. Now, tell me about her.” Martin recounted all that had happened then the Maker asked, “What have you learned about lamps over these many years?”

Martin recounted all that the Maker had taught him and then the Maker asked, “Tell me why you gave the lamp to Mary.”

“Because… because I knew it was made especially for her; she was supposed to have it. She wanted it, no, she needed it. She loved it so, I honestly wanted her to have it more than anything else in the world. I would have done anything for her to have that lamp.

“Why?”

Martin hung his head, he could barely speak the words, as though it were wrong to feel what was in his heart. “Because I love her.”

The Maker slowly nodded in understanding, then asked, “Knowing what you know about her life before the lamp, and loving her as you do, can you think of any reason why having the lamp could be considered a bad thing?”

Martin thought about that, and then, as though thinking out loud, he said, “It illuminated the truth for her, which gave her choices… it saved her life… “

“Are you sorry that she has the lamp, that things have turned out the way they have?”

Martin slowly shook his head as tears filled his eyes, “Why didn’t I sell her that lamp that first day I saw her?”

The Maker reminded him, “You were very young and inexperienced then, and she was not looking for one for herself; in fact, she has never considered herself. You remember how uncomfortable she was accepting the lamp that she loved so much, the one made especially for her. She would accept it only when you suggested a trade, and only temporarily.”

Martin started to cry again, “How can I take it away from her now? I can’t do it. I want her to have it more than ever.”

The Maker smiled, “Mary is healing; she is learning to think of herself, learning to respect her needs and wants. I think in time, and under the right circumstances she will accept it from you. What are you going to do about this lamp, the one she bought from you those many years ago?”

“It means so much to me, I can’t explain it. Is it because it is hers? Is it because of what it has done for me, how it makes me feel, alive, hopeful, excited? I know I have to give it back, it’s just that…”

“She does own it, it was purchased for her husband, but remember that it was made specifically for someone and every lamp eventually finds its way to the right person. Search your heart to find who that might be.”

Martin smiled, for he knew. There was a way for him to keep the lamp he cherished, he would share it with the woman who owned it, the woman he loved. He would be Mary’s husband. And that would be the right circumstance for Mary to accept her lamp from him. In time…

Martin said, “I will never be ready to become a lamp maker, will I.”

“Oh, Martin,” said the Maker, “You have only one thing left to understand, and I think you do already, you just don’t realize it. Tell me, Martin, what is light made of?”

Martin thought for a minute, then a smile swept across his face. He looked the Maker right in the eyes and said, “Love!”

EPILOGUE: The story does not end here, but continues to this day, and, in due time, as love stories always go, one day will read “and they lived happily ever after.”

Lamp Peddler, part 2

As he traveled the country side over the years, he sold many lamps. He returned to the Maker whenever he needed to replenish his supply or whenever a customer had a special order for the Maker. Martin got older, but he noticed that the Maker never seemed to age. He was always busy, but full of wise words for Martin.

“You are giving your customers more than light,” he would remind Martin, “You are giving them the means to illuminate truth, and when someone knows the truth, they are free to choose. Light is a very precious gift.”

As the years went by, Martin began to wonder if he would ever be ready to make lamps. He also wondered if he would ever find the one to receive the special lamp. The girl in his dream was never far from his thoughts; occasionally he would dream of her, and constantly he watched for her, until he came to wonder, is she a dream, or a memory? Is she even the one I am seeking? Then one day he approached a small, dark cottage on the outskirts of a small village. He knocked on the door and a woman came out onto the porch. When he gazed into her eyes, his heart leaped within him; could it be?

“Do I know you?” he blurted out, without thinking. Something seemed familiar to her, too, but he sensed a fear in her, so he quickly began his inquiry as to her need for a new lamp.

“I have a lamp,” she said, but, wanting him to linger, invited him to show her his. He hesitated, wondering to himself if he should bring out the special lamp. He thought it best to wait until he was sure.

He suggested, “Perhaps, since you already have a lamp, I could interest you in a new wick or chimney.”

Not wanting to admit that her lamp had ceased to give light many years ago, yet not wanting him to leave, she insisted, “Please, show me your lamps, I’d like to see all of them.”

One by one, he brought each to her porch, all but the special one, for he still wasn’t sure. Each lamp pleased her very much, but none seemed to suit her needs.

When she asked, “Have you another one?” He hesitated briefly, then couldn’t resist her soft green eyes and carefully brought the special one to her porch.

“Please light it for me,” her voice was soft and kind, her smile accepting. When the flame was adjusted just right, something in them both caught fire deep inside.

“Oh, it is so beautiful, so perfect!” she exclaimed, her eyes filled with an innocent delight. She sat down on the porch floor in front of it, like a little child, and as he saw the lamp reflected in her eyes, lighting her face, it seemed to illuminate her soul and he recognized her. She was indeed, the girl in his dream.

“You must have this one,” he said, slowly, softly.

“Oh, no,” she protested, thinking herself unworthy of such a beautiful lamp. “I am sorry, but I have no money for a lamp. It is enough that I can watch it for a few minutes.”

“But you must have it, I insist, I want you to have it.” It pleased him that the lamp delighted her so. It pleased him to think his long search was finally over.

“Honestly, sir, I cannot afford it; I have a lamp, and it must serve my needs. I am sorry for wasting your time and effort; please forgive me, but I cannot buy it.” Tears filled her eyes as she thought of the trouble she had caused him. He began to despair, wondering how he could possibly go away knowing that she is the very one for whom he had been searching these many years, the very one to whom the lamp belonged.

Tears filled his eyes, “Please, take it, take it as my gift to you, surely you cannot refuse a gift.” Then she began to weep openly, for she had never known such kindness.

“You are so very kind and generous, but I cannot accept it from you; it is wrong for me to accept such a gift from you.” She wept all the more and it pained him to see her grief. He was weeping, too, but a thought came to him.

“Bring me your lamp, I will let you have this one while I take yours to be cleaned and repaired. Will you let me do that?” She wiped her tears and managed to smile as hope swept across her face.

“Oh yes, what a perfectly lovely idea!”

While he packed away his other lamps, she went inside the dark cottage and brought her old lamp out. He could see that it was very old and that it hadn’t worked for many years. She was embarrassed to give it to him, but reminded him, “Now you will bring this one back as soon as it is working again.” He agreed, but thought to himself, I must think of a way to let her keep the other one. He watched her as she carefully lifted it and carried it into her dark house. He thought of the joy it brought to her, and the joy he felt at the role he played in such a happy outcome.

The Tale of the Lamp Peddler

To finish out this month's tribute to love, I will share with you, in three parts, a true story of love called "The Tale of the Lamp Peddler."

Part One:

Long ago and far away, there lived a boy named Martin. Martin had a pure heart, an eager mind, and a carefree spirit. He spent his days exploring the forests, befriending the animals. One day, while chasing rabbits, Martin happened upon a little shop deep in the woods. It was the shop and home of The Lamp Maker. Martin, whose poor home had only candles for light, was intrigued by the Maker’s work. Each lamp was a unique, hand-made creation that, when filled with oil and trimmed just right, gave off beautiful light that filled an entire room. More than the lamps, however, Martin felt an unusual reverence and respect for the man who created the lamps, for he was very wise and had a kind way about him. Martin visited him often for several years, and finally, one day, asked if the Maker would teach him how to make lamps. The Maker smiled, then slowly nodded, and said, “One day you will be ready to make the lamps; for now, you are ready to sell them.” He let Martin pick out twelve to take with him. They packed them carefully into a small handcart, and the Maker said, “To be a good lamp peddler, you must know your lamps and know your customers; only then can you make an appropriate match. Sometimes, a customer doesn’t know what he needs, you must be sensitive enough to help him choose wisely. But know this, eventually each person will find the lamp made especially for him.” Then the Maker took the lamp off his mantle and gave it to Martin.

“This is a special lamp. I have made it for someone special. I cannot say who that will be, but you will know when you find them, so listen to your heart and see that it goes to the right person. Get a good rest tonight, for tomorrow you will make your first sale!” Martin packed the special lamp carefully with the others and started for home.

As he passed through the village, he was stopped by a young girl who asked directions. He gave them gladly, then, sensing an opportunity, asked if she might have need of a lamp.

“Why, yes!” she exclaimed in surprise. “I am here to purchase the items for my dowry and would like a lamp for my future husband.”

“I have the perfect lamp for you, or, for him, I should say.” And he brought out the very lamp he would choose for himself, sturdy and functional. “You will notice that the chimney is perfectly symmetrical and the glass is of the finest craftsmanship, without flaw or bubble. The base is gilded with pure gold. Let me light it for you so you can see for yourself.”

It truly was a very fine lamp and she decided immediately that it would be perfect. Their eyes met as she paid him. Then she thanked him and said, “My husband, whoever he is, will be very blessed to have this beautiful piece!”

That night as he readied himself for bed, he thought to himself how pleased the Maker would be to know he had made a sale so soon, and such a perfect sale indeed! He would be ready to become a lamp maker in no time, he was sure of it. He unpacked the special lamp, trimmed it, and gazed into its flame as he fell asleep. He dreamed of the special person to whom it would one day belong, a stunning girl, with long brown hair, clear green eyes, and a warm, accepting smile. She was much like his first customer. “How peculiar,” he thought, for he was confident she had purchased the perfect lamp for her needs. “My dreams are playing tricks on me.”

to be continued...

love makes the world go round

This saying really is true. It is the love in our lives that is our motivating factor, that makes life worth living, that gives us joy and meaning to all that we do. That love comes from our relationships, all of them, the most important being those within the family, and particularly that in the marriage relationship. That relationship alone provides the very foundation of love in our lives. When it is lacking, other relationships can compensate to some degree, but a marriage that lacks the qualities of love brings to each individual a tremendous amount of sadness that can permeate everything in life and even choke out the love we feel from other sources. There are hundreds of books written about the marriage relationship, full of ideas of what it is, should be, and how to make it all that you need/want it to be. I have come up with my own simple list of

“How to know if you have a celestial marriage:”

Both feel loved and accepted for who you are, you feel comfortable, safe with each other.

You share goals, purpose, you are excited to support each other’s hopes and dreams

You are on the same page, you are in agreement on most/major issues.

You problem-solve together, decisions are made together, you are a team, you cooperate.

You love to be with each other; when you are apart you look forward to being together again.

You admire, respect, appreciate each other

You are kind, gentle, compassionate with each other.

I don’t have that right now, but I know what it looks like, I know what it feels like, and I know that it is possible for me, even at my age. Until I can have a celestial marriage, I joy in the good and loving relationships that I DO have, many of them, and am so grateful that the sadness of a poor marriage relationship is finally behind me.