That golden area toward the edge of the middle left is Thomas Bickle’s light as it looks from where I am sitting this morning.  Last Christmastime when Thomas was on hospice care, I put up our outdoor lights that twinkle on the slim branches of large bushes that have lost their leaves. At night the lights seem to be floating. I said they were Thomas Bickle’s lights. I’ve written off and on about Thomas and his folks and no need to retell it all here.

But we are thinking of him . . . and Thomas still shines.