WITH A FLAME BURN CLEAR AND BRIGHTLY

Try as I might, I couldn't get a good fire going this morning. I used all the right tools: firestarters, paper, kindling, good wood, lighter. But though it was burning, it wasn't burning hot enough to give off much heat.

I assessed the situation in consternation. I was cold. I wanted warmth. Then I remembered that just as I had opened the woodstove this morning, I briefly thought, "These ashes are too deep; I should clean this out today before I start a fire." But I didn't, deciding that it could wait a day or two more.

Now I am nursing a poor fire all day, wishing I'd done the best thing at the best time. It reminded me of a song we are singing at our Portland Mormon Choir and Orchestra concert next week called "Fum, Fum, Fum". A line towards the end goes: "Oh let the night shine lightly. With a flame burn clear and brightly . . ." We sing that last line over and over, terracing the dynamics, adding voices and notes until it finally bursts into a full-voiced, joyous flame of song.

And I thought about the ashes I allow to gather too long in my soul, stunting my attempts to burn clear and brightly, my fire dim and hard to maintain. It seems such a simple thing, to do the best thing at the best time--before problems ensue--but the moments come and go sometimes without our attentive notice.

At the very next opportunity, when my little fire dies down and all is still and cold, I am going to clean out my ashes.