Candle wicks, like memories, flicker faintly at times, and burn brightly at others.
Dickens could have been writing about my father, William Christian Stoos, when he said of Scrooge that he knew how to keep Christmas well. Dad was the Spirit of Christmas in our household. Each year he anticipated the holiday with a childlike glee. Although a stoic man, and deeply spiritual, he became a child at Christmas time--his favorite time of the year.
Whether it was the gaudy Christmas tree with its 2,000 lights that warmed our cozy house, the pine candles and exotic incense that filled it with the wonderful scent of Christmas, the ice tree he made each year in the front yard, or the pile of presents under the tree, which he and Mom worked so hard to buy--Dad reveled in the trappings and the spirit of Christmas. Whatever adversity the year may have brought previously was forgotten, for nothing mattered more than this season. It was, for him, a time of joy, wonder, and mystery, but most of all --togetherness.
I wish I had his sense of wonder and awe at the season. I tell myself I do; however, I do not think I can ever match his. Nor have I his creativity and talent. He did everything well--from working on the house, to upholstering furniture for clients, to making leaded glass panes, lamps, and candles--all of which he did during his later years after retirement. He had patience, pride in his work, and a desire for perfection that I, regrettably, did not inherit. And, above all, it was important to him that traditions--such as Christmas--be passed on, remembered, and revered.
Christmas, 1980, was special. I had just gotten out of the service and looked forward to spending Christmas with my folks and my brother. On this Christmas Day, Dad gave my brother and me a very special present. It was not the kind that you buy in the store, but the very best kind of present--the one that comes straight from the heart. This year he gave us each a leaded glass candleholder with a metal base, complete with a six-inch red pillar candle. The candleholder was fashioned from a variety of richly colored glass rectangles bound together by lead bead. It was a beautiful gift that took a lot of effort and love to create.
"Thanks, Dad," I said, "it is beautiful."
Dad turned the candle over and showed us the inscription etched on the bottom: 'Christmas, 1980, Love, Dad.'
“His newest book, The Wind and the Spirit (Stories of Faith and Inspiration)” was released in 2011 with all the author’s royalties go to support the Carmelite sisters.”