The advent wreath sat beneath the window, placed there so that anyone who should be passing could see the glimmer of the flames. There was something about them that exuded more than warmth. They were beacons, guiding lights for those who had lost their way. A promise of brighter days and new life, not too far in the distance.
Anna wanted anyone who was in need to be able to see the candles lit in their home and feel something in their extinguished spirit spark to life again. You are not alone, she wanted to say to them, keep on going, because there are better things to be found.
She was one who could vouch for the truth in those words, as she looked into the face of her loving husband, finding his eyes always adoring her and his arms always ready and waiting to welcome her.
She felt the truth of those words when she saw the beaming smiles and curious gazes of her three darling children, so bright and kind. Miracles, all of them, and bringing nothing but shining joy into her life.
Together they lit the candles, one each Sunday as the weeks passed and the most special day of them all came closer. She listened to their questions and served to give the best answers that she could. The candles counted the weeks until the birth of Jesus, and each stood for something which could always be found, even when the days as well as the nights seemed dark. She talked about them when each was in flame, hoping that she was doing justice with her explanations.
Hope, peace, joy and love.
The things that you will always find in your heart. She smiled as she spoke and tapped their heads one by one, as though she was adding to each of their flames.
John was full of praise for her once the children were asleep, and the candles were snuffed for the night, to be lit as appropriate again the next morning. If you ever wanted to, you could change your career, he told her, with a kiss to her forehead before they headed to bed themselves.
She smiled underneath his lips, and murmured what was entirely true.
I already have the best job in the world.
The final candle remained unlit until Christmas morning, when the house was alive with enough excitement that could power the whole village. Even so, the children still waited to open the first of their presents until it was lit, and Anna's heart was full as she saw how they all regarded and admired it with reverence and true awe, knowing what it meant, as young as they were. John put an arm around her, drawing her closer to him as he saw how affected she was.
As was tradition, and had been since they had worked at the big house – and now, carried on while they had a house and a hotel of their own – they went to church on Christmas morning. It was something important to Anna, and the mass always moved her greatly. It was one which was full of joy, too, with the singing of the hymns and the rejoicing of the arrival of the light of the world.
They saw familiar faces there, which was a very happy sight. Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes, who marvelled at how fast the children were growing. Mrs Patmore, and Mr Mason. Some years brought new faces. Both Anna and John were delighted to meet Daisy and Andy's youngest child, a babe in arms in every sense, just two months old, as beautiful as anything. Their two boys were full of smiles, one held by their father. Daisy had that fulfilled but exhausted look about her, which was one that Anna recognised well. That's the last of them now, she said, looking up at Andy as he grinned down at her, as proud as punch.
Miss Baxter – or rather, Mrs Molesley – made her way over too, once the congregation began to file out from the doors into the chill but bright morning, followed closely by her husband, always full of good cheer and regaling them with the successes of his students, in a most humble and earnest way. Anna asked them how they were getting on with their cottage, while Mr Molesley kept Jack well entertained with fact after fact pulled from history.
Not far from where they were stood, lining the back of the church, were rows of candles, not so big as the ones which were part of their wreath. Some were burning with bright and tender flames. Others had been left, not passed by or overlooked, but patient, waiting.
"Mummy," said Emma, pointing to the candles, "why are there so many candles here?"
"Did Jesus put them there?" asked Charlotte from the other side of her.
"Not quite, my love," Anna replied, smoothing her hand against Charlotte's hair, "but he does see every candle that is lighted. And he knows that every light on every candle means something very dear to someone."
The family walked nearer to the rows, along with their friends.
"You see, the people who are close to Jesus, in heaven, are here with us when we light a candle. We do it so they know that we are thinking of them and wish them well."
"Wish them a happy Christmas?" Emma asked.
"Yes," Anna smiled, "that's very important. When we light a candle we show that we love those people who aren't with us anymore."
"And that we always will love them," John added, holding onto Jack's hand.
"Can we light some candles, Mummy?" Charlotte said.
"I think we must," Anna replied, "especially today."
So Anna lifted Charlotte, and John held up Emma so each could carefully, and with hands ready to help, add a small flame to two candles. Jack used some of the flame from one of his sister's candles to light his own. Anna noticed that Daisy lit a candle, leaving Andy cradling their youngest child as she looked on, tears coming into her eyes.
And then both Anna and John added two lights, smiling at one another, remembering the sorrow they had felt at what was now a happy time.
As the flames grew larger against the light of others, they looked upon the faces of their children and were more than overjoyed for everything they had.