Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: BROKEN (12/06/18)
- TITLE: A Song for the Morning
By Dave Walker
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"Morning has broken," he muttered, "yet again."
In spite of himself, however, he could not repress a lift in his spirits, as a half-forgotten song tried to surface, notwithstanding his efforts to squash it.
Morning has broken
Like the first morning
The tune echoed in his head like the soft bells of a distant cathedral.
"But it's not like the first morning, is it, Lord? Everything's changed.
He tried to quell the song to assuage the guilt. He shouldn't feel happy while he was mourning for Jill; yet the song persisted, as though the voices of a thousand saints who had sung it through the ages were urging him to join them.
Almost absent-mindedly, he started humming the tune.
Mine is the sunlight! Mine is the morning......
"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy --- My joy --- comes in the morning."
Where did that come from? So clear was the whisper that Alistair looked behind him. There was only the empty bed.
He'd heard that before. Where was it? Oh yes. At Jill's funeral. The pictures flashed before him yet again. The phone call. The rush to the scene. Ambulance sirens. Intensive Care. Finally, the weight of the doctor's hands on Alistair's shoulders and the look of deep compassion in his eyes. Night closing in. Deep, black, night. Three people in each other's arms, sobbing till their hearts physically ached.
Bill and Susan had been wonderful since then. The young seem more resilient. Though they loved their mum dearly, they were able to pick up their lives and move forward.
But he was stuck in the silence and blackness of night.
What was happening? Something was bubbling to the surface --- crystalline champagne laughing through the brooding. Alistair was still in his pyjamas as he tossed his reluctance to the wind and surrendered to the song. His deep-throated voice, made deeper by the early morning huskiness, filled the room, the house, the universe, with praise.
Mine is the sunlight
It was streaming through the window now.
Mine is the morning
"Yes, God. I choose to receive Your mercies, new every morning."
Praise with elation, praise every morning. Only a Christian knows the paradox Alistair was experiencing as the joy accompanying his praise did not eliminate the pain, but mingled with it in a divine dance of anguish and delight.
God's re-creation of the new day.
------------- o -------------
The special ring that told Susan it was her dad seemed to reverberate in a minor key that tore at her heart. She braced herself for yet another dark comforting session. Poor Dad. He's lost without Mom.
Bill looked at her expectantly as she answered. He saw her eyes widen, her jaw drop and then her lips break into a broad smile as animated chatter and laughter filled the room like confetti dancing in sunlight.
When she finally said goodbye, she turned to her brother.
"God's done a miracle with Dad. He's put a new song in his heart. It's no longer a dirge."
Her eyes sparkled as she hugged her brother and swung him around. "Nothing's changed --- in his circumstances, I mean." She bubbled and sparkled. "But everything's changed. He still loves Mom dearly, of course, but he's able to hand her over to God and live with the beautiful memories."
She threw herself onto the sofa. "He's going to sing again. Oh, how I've missed that lovely rich baritone these last two years. He's rejoining the choir. He says he's going to request that the first song they sing when he's there is Morning has Broken."
He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear the LORD and put their trust in him. (Ps 40:3)
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