Reflected Light

Reflected Light

For years and years now, I have been collecting beautiful copies of Charles Dickens’ holiday classic, A Christmas Carol.  On the day after Thanksgiving, when the wreath is hung on the front door and trees go up throughout the house, I gather these books from their respective shelves and scatter them here and there, always within easy reach of a comfortable reading chair or bedside.  Dickens’ story is, to me, as much a part of Christmas as red ribbons and fudge, and many of its well-remembered quotations drift through my thoughts each December.  This particular December just past, however, it seemed as though I was caught in the web of another of the great author’s famous lines from another book entirely... 

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”.  

Having worked on my book, From the House of Edward, most of the year, I had no way of knowing its release would coincide with my Mother’s ultimate decline in health.  Also, while I could, and did, indulge in imagining the delight I would feel upon finally holding that very first copy in my hands, my imagination stopped right there.  There was no way I could have dreamed up all the wonderful letters I would begin to get once people started to receive their very own copies.  In the midst of such bad news, day after day, concerning my Mother, there would be letter after letter in my inbox from people expressing the most delightful responses to my book.  How can I ever say enough thanks to you all?  

There are so many blogs out there in the ether, a multitude of well-written, beautifully photographed, places to visit each day.  That you continue to stop by The House of Edward, continue to leave such interesting and encouraging comments, continue to write such beautiful letters... well, it amazes me no end.  The book is getting ready to go into a second printing (which also amazes me no end) and I am so grateful to all of you.  Those who received it for Christmas are now ordering more copies for friends and this just puts a grin on my face that threatens to be permanent.

The work of the French Baroque painter, George de La Tour, has been on my mind of late.  La Tour was famous for his realistic depictions of reflected light and I cannot help but think this is what you all have provided me these past couple of months.  On days when I felt as though no light emanated from me at all, your kindnesses and encouraging words have provided me with far more than enough, gifting me with warmth and illumination for my path ahead.  

We buried my Mother on the very last day of a difficult year.  A more striking metaphor I could never conceive.  As I step, each day a bit surer, into the clean, untouched days of this new year, I do so with much gratitude for the remarkable readers I am so fortunate to have, so happy to have you on this journey along with me.

Thank you all.

Painting above by George de La Tour