Happiness is a flickering candle sitting in a drafty window. It is not always there, regardless of how hard I try. Sometimes, the draft whispers, taunting to blow out the flame completely. Other times, the draft succeeds. It is too strong and invites in the darkness. Can you see it when you look into my eyes?

But then, a person, a moment, hope, relights the candle, and all seems right with the world. The window is lit, and the outside world feels its warmth when it passes by.

I strive to relight that candle—to ignite my soul, to allow my heart to shine—as much as possible. And I am selective about who helps to relight it. I work to strengthen and protect the flickering, vulnerable flame from drafts that want to blow it out and see the darkness remain.

My light, more often than not, endures the drafts. But when the flame is barely noticeable, or when it completely fades away, I work to relight it as quickly as possible. I know that a flickering candle is resilient, handling the many drafts sent its way. I also know that a strong wind can extinguish it. But that is only temporary as the fuel to relight that flame is still within. I simply need to remind myself of that, and relight it.