Previous Version
This is a previous version of Be Thou My Vision.
The little girl sits quietly in the pew. Her mother is speaking to a friend after most the congregation has left; disappearing into the warm sunlight outside. Her dark brown eyes scan the great rafters, her legs swinging in sync to the hymn she continues to hum.
Be Thou my vision, O Lord of my heart...Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art...
A deacon hears her soft refrain and takes a seat a few rows back, curious and interested.
Unaware of being watched, she raises a pointed finger to one of the large stained glass windows; one eye shut and the other staring intently at the subject. Slowly she moves her finger along with her gaze, skimming each window until her eyes and finger rest upon a particularly bright scene, facing the morning sun.
Her wide eyes linger on the great pane. The deacon sees her face soften, a thoughtful look taking the place of her playful winking, and her hand drop to her side. He takes a seat next to her on the pew, following her gaze, hoping to see to what has so captured her attention.
The Resurrection Scene.
Bright yellows, deep blues and pure white fragments pieced together to form the beautiful display.
The picture floods the chapel with shimmering light, and ever the dust glitters in the far reaching rays.
"Pretty isn't it?" he asks, smiling at her fascination.
She nods her head, still staring at the window.
"He lets the light in."
The deacon knits his brows, confused. "I'm sorry...who?"
The girl looks up at him, her hand pointing back to the picture.
"Jesus. He lets the light in."
He looks up at the window, a crooked smile spreading across his face. "You're right, he does...He lets the light in."
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall...Still be my vision, O ruler of all...
I feel now like I'm the one walking into sacred territory. I have often found, if you want the essence of the Truth in a situation, ask a child for his or her perspective. Reading this, I could feel this little girl sitting there, quietly, in that thin space where the Holy Spirit dwells, receiving her simple, quiet, and profound message of Truth.
"He lets the Light in"
Yes, He does. And all of the fancy words in the world could not express it more truthfully, beautifully, or eloquently than that little girl did. What a beautiful write. I hope the lesson is never forgotten, by either the girl or the deacon in this story.
I love the way you write. This piece strikes me as something that is true... perhaps as they say the proverbial names have been changed to protect the innocent ;) Beautifully penned. Well done. Bisous, Love and Light, Sender
angelic solace, a quietude displayed by someone who knows the depth of fleeting moments as simple as they may seem leave an imprint far beyond time...you've painted an amazing imagery, resurrected the dust and swirled it like paint.
Such a profound statement! It is always interesting how children have to show us as adults truth. And I'm guessing that the child was a very special child, who grew into a very special young woman. Did she continue to see the truth in her life?
This is a very special story, Vesa. I have been sitting here for five minutes trying to think of words adequate to praise it, without success. There are no extra words for this, no fancy, high-falutin' words that can in any way adorn this work. "He lets the light in..." Perfect.
I would be honored if you would read my, "This Son Of God", offering the perspectives of several people (none of them deacons) as they confront the person of Christ. Thank you, Mark Teague
I am a person.
I am enthralled with reading/writing poetry and stories, as well as collecting quotes.
I am captivated by beauty. I study it any chance I get.
I want desperately to be loved by my S.. more..