Most mornings I walk in my quiet place. As the sun peeks over the Blue Ridge Mountains with a wash of amber over the valley, I pause, close my eyes, stretch out my arms, and verbally praise my Savior. The warmth I feel in my body and in my spirit recharges me and fuels me for the day.
So smitten with the sunrise am I that I've often struggled to capture its beauty on paper, mostly with pen and ink with various pastel shadings. The exercise helps me feel close to Abba Father.
Yet, at no time did His sunrise mean more to me than after the loss of our second baby, a little boy born at four months gestation. In the aftermath, I longed to make sense of the senseless.
Alone and depressed one cold morning, I knelt in front of our living room recliner. With compelling cheeriness, the winter sun poured through the double windows as I poured out my heart to God. Exhausted, I reached for my Bible on the coffee table. Flipping the pages, I landed on Luke 1:78-79.
Because of the tender mercy of our God,
With which the Sunrise from on high shall visit us,
To shine upon those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death.
To guide our feet into the way of peace.
I perked up. It was as though God faxed that scripture through rays of sunlight just for me that morning. Since we'd recently gone through the Christmas season, the passage was especially meaningful. My Sunrise, my Savior, had chosen to leave heaven in the form of a helpless babe in order to lift me out of my sin and darkness. On this life-changing morn, He reminded me that His light extended beyond my initial salvation to illumine every dark thing thereafter that tried to invade my soul, including depression in the aftermath of my loss.
This December Sunrise experience was a pivotal point in my healing journey in 1982.
Years later, Luke 1:78-79 continues to impact my life and prayerfully others' lives as I draw upon this scripture for my novel, December Sunrise.
So smitten with the sunrise am I that I've often struggled to capture its beauty on paper, mostly with pen and ink with various pastel shadings. The exercise helps me feel close to Abba Father.
Yet, at no time did His sunrise mean more to me than after the loss of our second baby, a little boy born at four months gestation. In the aftermath, I longed to make sense of the senseless.
Alone and depressed one cold morning, I knelt in front of our living room recliner. With compelling cheeriness, the winter sun poured through the double windows as I poured out my heart to God. Exhausted, I reached for my Bible on the coffee table. Flipping the pages, I landed on Luke 1:78-79.
Because of the tender mercy of our God,
With which the Sunrise from on high shall visit us,
To shine upon those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death.
To guide our feet into the way of peace.
I perked up. It was as though God faxed that scripture through rays of sunlight just for me that morning. Since we'd recently gone through the Christmas season, the passage was especially meaningful. My Sunrise, my Savior, had chosen to leave heaven in the form of a helpless babe in order to lift me out of my sin and darkness. On this life-changing morn, He reminded me that His light extended beyond my initial salvation to illumine every dark thing thereafter that tried to invade my soul, including depression in the aftermath of my loss.
This December Sunrise experience was a pivotal point in my healing journey in 1982.
Years later, Luke 1:78-79 continues to impact my life and prayerfully others' lives as I draw upon this scripture for my novel, December Sunrise.
A young girl's heart for helping takes her to a dark place
only the Light of Christmas can illumine.
A little girl’s Christmas wish comes at a high cost.
Emma’s Christmas list isn’t like other kids’. Instead of toys, she wants her mama’s cancer to go away, the town to stop arguing over the Ten Commandments, and nice Mr. Whitmire to reunite with his estranged daughter. Grandma Doreen holds the key to a family secret that just might fulfill some of Emma’s desires, but not before tragedy strikes.
Emma’s Christmas list isn’t like other kids’. Instead of toys, she wants her mama’s cancer to go away, the town to stop arguing over the Ten Commandments, and nice Mr. Whitmire to reunite with his estranged daughter. Grandma Doreen holds the key to a family secret that just might fulfill some of Emma’s desires, but not before tragedy strikes.
Filled with the wonder and hope that only His December Sunrise can create . . .
Experience the Sunrise this December!
December Sunrise available here.
2 comments:
December Sunrise is a wonderful book. God bless you and your family this Christmas season, Eileen.
Thanks, Debbie! You, too. :)
Post a Comment