Short Stories
Rising of the Son
Anne Carson shivered as the icy wind blew her fiery red hair away from her face. She tugged at her shawl in an effort to form a barrier against the northern winds creeping in from the wooded little dale, nestled deep in the heart of Bohouvia National Forest. Summerdale. The name rolled off her tongue easily. She had named her little cabin in the dale in memory of the summers spent here with her dear grandparents, who were now resting in the arms of Jesus. She had no doubts about this.
Her grandparents were kindly and soft-spoken people who were always genuinely pleased to see her bounce down the steps of the old passenger train in town. She could hardly wait to embrace them, and go to the little cabin she had come to love so dearly. They always made a big to-do about her coming. There were pies and cakes and the little molasses cookies she always had with a tall glass of milk right before bedtime.
Suddenly, as quickly as the winds had whipped in from the direction of the great mountains north of Summerdale, they ceased and all became eerily quiet. She turned her face to the east, and waited breathlessly. She was almost afraid to inhale and exhale for fear of shattering the majestical moment. Oh! There it was. The most beautiful golden crescent surrounded by mauves, blues, and yellows floated across the horizon, forming a rainbow of colors that only God can paint. It was a perfect picture of the Glory of God. There is no other light like His light, just as there is no other love like His love. And no paintings have ever compared to His paintings in the sky and on the earth.
Her mind drifts back in time to the Scriptures they read each night before bedtime, and the long sermons delivered on Sunday mornings, causing them to reflect upon the things they may have done during the week that were not pleasing to the Master, and even, sometimes, how they may have hurt Him without realizing it.
The Word says that God is light. He is. And all His paintings and wonders give proof of it. Also, God is love. And that is the truth as well. If we could just learn to love others as He loves us, then we could grasp a small thread of what His will really is for us.
She looked again, and there was a new picture. The golden crescent was now a softly glowing white light, surrounded by purples and blues. She realized that no one was looking at exactly the same thing she was seeing. It was like He was slowly turning the pages of the easel for her, just for her.
Right then, right there, Anne knew that she could put all her trust in Him. He is the Light. In Him is no darkness. He is Love. Love God first, and your neighbor second. He is the King of Kings, and if you are one of His, then you are a child of the King. He promised to supply all our needs. She thought back to the times when things were tough, and she knew this was the answer. She had never been really hungry, or thirsty, or without anything she needed to get by. Oh, she had missed a few luxuries, but He said needs, not wants. He’s the Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End…
She took one more look to the east, and found a new meaning of the word “Son-Rise.”
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