Three years later, and the memory of her still burns just as fresh today. Striking and poised, she sat alone with her silver-grey hair tucked beneath broad-rimmed hat and matching cape all in red sipping tea from a dainty, white cup. She occupied not a quiet corner table, but one in the middle of the candle-light and champagne glasses and bustling waiters in black.
It was our last night in
We’d come in out of the cold December rain and shook off coats and scarves at a quaint table in Angelina. My husband, handsome and ordering in rehearsed French, and I absorbing every finite detail of the moment. I sat breathing it all in; the flicker of candle-light through champagne glasses. The heady mingling of fragrances hanging heavy; French perfume, fine cuisine, romance and allure – a moment captured and savored on the tongue.
I want to be that for Jesus.
Someday, when I’ve gone home to be with Him, I want to be remembered as that woman sitting in the middle of the chaos, the noise and activity determined to be a light for Jesus. I want to shine for Him and to go about it confidently. While life is going on around me, I want others to see His light through me and know that it's meant for us all, not an exclusive few – and that His light pierces through the busiest, deepest, darkest places.
And it’s meant to shine through you.
(Matthew 5:14-16) NIV