Then she went on to comment:
So I figured, the measure of life is not what body part is not sagging, and what is no longer firm, or the fire hazard a cake is becoming. David Daiches, I think it was, who wrote in a literary criticism of Virginia Woolf's To the Lighthouse, spoke of epiphanies - matches struck in the dark.
A blinding floodlight won't always come on; sometimes all you get is a match struck in the dark. But as the Bible says, and two hurricanes have shown me, in complete
darkness, a tiny flame can have a far-reaching effect.
I feel less and less that God created me to fulfill one BIG purpose, and if I don't reach it, I have failed, and more and more that there are a number of slivers of time, and
spoonfulls of moments in which He has various small purposes for me to fulfill, all of which add up to the BIG purpose.
Rather than despairing over the big light that I have not acquired or accomplished, I should celebrate the little things, the matches struck in the dark. Instead of complaining that the cake is a fire hazard, I should cultivate a thankful spirit for each match that had to be struck to light that candle, so when there are ninety-eight candles, that still will be my attitude. As Joyce blogs: "Life is to be lived to the fullest. I want mine to count for everything I've put into it!"