Every October 15th, I Light a Candle for My Team in Heaven
Every October 15th at 7pm, candles are lit around the world. It’s called the Wave of Light, and it moves across time zones, one flame after another, in honor of babies who were gone far too soon.
The Wave of Light began in 2003. By then, I was already in the midst of my own journey, years into the heartache of infertility and loss. I never thought this date would belong to me. And I certainly never thought it would belong to me this many times over.
After more than a decade of infertility and recurrent pregnancy loss, I have an entire soccer team in heaven. A whole roster of little ones I hoped for, prayed for, and loved before I ever got to hold them. Some years the grief was loud. Some years it was a quiet ache I carried into rooms where no one knew.
All the while, candles were being lit somewhere in the world on this very night, and I was already walking the road they were lit for. Now I know that love begins long before a first breath, and that it doesn’t end when the hoping does.
· · ·
October has become a tender month for me. It is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, a time when the leaves turn and let go, and when so many of us carry our quiet grief a little closer to the surface. On the 15th, I light a candle. Maybe more than one. I let them burn and think of every heartbeat, every positive test, every “maybe this time,” and every goodbye. I let the tears come if they come.
A Promise I Hold
And as the flames flicker, a promise comes to mind:
“And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.”
Revelation 21:4 (KJV)
Some days I hold this verse loosely, and some days I clutch it with both hands. Either way, it holds me. On the nights the grief is heavy, I hear it as a whisper: this is not the end of the story.
· · ·
If you light a candle too, you are not alone in the glow. Thousands of us will be Remembering someone who mattered.
Our babies were here.
They were loved.
They are still loved.
· · ·
A Prayer for Tonight
Father, You see every tear I have cried, in the daylight and in the dark. Thank You that no ache has gone unnoticed and no child has gone unknown to You. Tonight, hold every mama who is lighting a candle. Where her arms feel empty, fill them with Your comfort. Where her heart is heavy, rest Your hand on it. On the days trust feels hard, be near anyway. Hold the little ones we cannot, and hold us until the day You wipe every tear away. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Each October 15th at 7pm, wherever you are, I hope you’ll light a candle too.
