Rebekah

(Merry Christmas, Bekah! I figured that, as a writer, you'd appreciate the gift of words.)

Once upon a time there lived a girl. She was quiet, never one to draw attention to herself.  She tended to watch, to observe the people around her. Her eyes were what you might call "soulful." Blue-gray, poetic as the ocean after a rainstorm and just as deep.

This girl wasn't like most other girls, for inside her chest, at that place where her beating heart and living soul intersected, there was a light. Imagine a flashlight in a dark room or a ray of sun bouncing off the lake at sunset. Now stop imagining that any light that we've seen can compare to what shone from this girl.

She loved to share this light. Sometimes she would use her camera to snap photographs and on each image you could see a glimmer, a glow of radiance that mirrored her own shimmering beam. Other times she would use words to create new worlds and these creations sparkled like stars on a crisp, clear night.

Her hands were beautiful, ready to serve, to help, to heal what she could. Her arms, always ready to embrace a hurting soul, her lips, speaking truths and comforts.

You may think that I am describing a fairy tale princess or perhaps a queen from some mythical land far, far away. But no, this creature lives here in our world. She lives in and amid the darkness, the pain, and the tears. But that is why her light is so dazzling, so needed. The brightness in her chest was placed there by her King and every day, she goes out, ready to send its beams to the dark corners of this broken universe.

I've known this girl for years and, amazingly, her light keeps growing with each passing moment. It has touched my own soul. In this corner of the big, messy world, I see hope rising and taking over. This girl, this ordinary, but faithful girl, has brightened my life, my own little messy world. She's a gift. And I thank the Father of Lights for her and for her brilliant light.