TITLE: rewrite of then came the morning
By olivia gates
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THEN CAME THE MORNING
The morning is cool, as slowly the stars fade away. The advancing dawn is turning the dark sky to a pinkish-blue. I have been sitting in my deer stand engulfed in the darkness for about fifteen minutes of sheer terror. This fear began in my childhood and has followed me into adulthood. Over time, I have learned to tolerate the darkness in order to deer hunt. My love of deer hunting has outweighed my fear of the dark.
I have clanged to God’s promises that the sun will rise again. It slowly appears behind a pine tree to the left of my hunting stand. I sit in total amazement and visualize a child’s slide made of sunshine .As each of the sunbeams run down the slide, they land one particular tree. Within minutes, the sunbeams climb up the middle of the tree and into the center of my stand. The sunshine slide burns off the morning dew. My stand is steaming. As the sun raises high above the treetops, it warms the earth.
An ever so slight current of wind gently rises off the warming ground. I breathe in the comforting aroma of the forest floor. I inhale the musky smell of fallen leaves, and the faint hint of wild flowers. I soak up the sunshine and am thankful for the much -needed warmth it brings .
I also enjoy the birds, which have burst into a harmonizing chorus. I periodically check my lanes for deer. I sit in awe of this magnificent display----God waking the forest. This majestic scene brings a song by Guy Penrod 1, a Christian song writer ,to my mind.
Then came the morning, night was turned into day
The stone was rolled away, hope rose with the dawn.
Then came the morning shadows vanished before the sun,
Death lost and life won, for morning had come. By Gloria Gaither, William J Gaither, Chris Christian, Gaither Music Company.
Morning came right before my eyes. #
A small rabbit wanders out from the woods and into my lane. He kisses several blades of grass and drinks deeply from them. He hops into a corn pile. I have placed corn in many different spots, to attract the deer. Although rabbits and squirrels find them very appealing, this rabbit is full and hops off into the woods.
Now, the dewdrops follow each other down the long pine needles and slowly drip off their tips, like water off umbrella spines. The dew rushes uninterrupted down the wide flat leaves of the oak trees. Soon , everywhere the forest is raining dew. Like a tiny drummer boy, the gentle drops resound on top of my stand. The pine tree next to my stand has let go of its morning dew.
Then it happened. As I was looking straight ahead, out of the corner of my right eye I caught movement. It was slight and somewhat dainty. My heart raced, and I mentally prepared for action. I eased my arm to the right corner of my stand, picked up my gun, and put it on my lap. I turned my head about three inches to the right; slowly rotating toward my right shoulder. My heart was racing out of control. There it was, no, my racing heart ran out of gas.
The movement I had caught was that of a butterfly, no two; sitting way out to my right.
I picked up my binoculars to get a closer look at them. One is dark orange with pale-orange wings. The pale color outlines the ends of her wings. The strong orange is up next to her head. She has black outlines laced with white dots and a pale striped body with flimsy Ananias. Her legs are long and spindly. I have always presumed that beautiful butterflies are female, this is just me. 3
The other butterfly is a brilliant sapphire blue. Her upper wings are pale in comparison to her lower wings. A definite black outlines her wings. She has a black body that appears to be much stronger than the other butterfly. The stately sapphire blue butterfly drifts down from the tree branch. She floats to a nearby thistle bush. Rising on the wind, she flutters right up to the front of my stand pausing for a second before sailing away.
The orange butterfly half-heartedly flutters out to the end of her tree branch. Looking toward the ground, she scurries back to the safety of the tree. Trying again, she flaps her wings and descends to a small limb just below the mother limb, but immediately goes back to the small limb.
As I watch these two butterflies, I determine that the orange butterfly has been listening to those small voices in her head----the small voices that tell you,” You will never change, once a worm always a worm.” This one butterfly had no idea she could fly like an eagle. She could not see past her own past. She was new creature thinking like an old creature. She could not see how beautiful she was.
Eventually, the sapphire butterfly floated away out of sight. When I left several hours later, the orange butterfly was still clinging to the tree.
It was a beautiful day filled with many wonders. A sunshine slide, a song I love, a smell I long for and two of God’s majestic creations, all for my enjoyment.
PS ( Pearls in my stand)
Some days it is not about the deer hunting; it is about being with my Lord and Savior. Look for the out of ordinary things in life. Just enjoy life and smell the roses, or woods.
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