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A fireplace draws its warmth from many logs, but not all firelogs are the same.
Some are long, some short, some thick, some thin, but when they are dry and ready, each releases the warmth it was meant to give.
Even when we cannot measure the light our presence brings, or feel the warmth our posture radiates, there is a quiet power in simply being ready.
When we humbly choose to join the rest of the logs, many unknown to us, many out of a different kind of tree, we become part of a greater fire, a constellation of flames, each adding its spark to the glow, each unseen heat shaping the whole.
Like the logs, we are each unique, our seasons different, our gifts are also formed by different fires, but when we are prepared, when our hearts are seasoned and ready, we can give light, we can give warmth, and we can inspire others in ways we may never fully know.
To give light is not to shine alone, but to join the fire.
By Berta P. WeyenbergA fireplace draws its warmth from many logs, but not all firelogs are the same.
Some are long, some short, some thick, some thin, but when they are dry and ready, each releases the warmth it was meant to give.
Even when we cannot measure the light our presence brings, or feel the warmth our posture radiates, there is a quiet power in simply being ready.
When we humbly choose to join the rest of the logs, many unknown to us, many out of a different kind of tree, we become part of a greater fire, a constellation of flames, each adding its spark to the glow, each unseen heat shaping the whole.
Like the logs, we are each unique, our seasons different, our gifts are also formed by different fires, but when we are prepared, when our hearts are seasoned and ready, we can give light, we can give warmth, and we can inspire others in ways we may never fully know.
To give light is not to shine alone, but to join the fire.