I grew up hearing about the Aurora Borealis...

​...the Northern Lights. My paternal grandfather was an immigrant from Norway. I was born in Albert Lea, Minnesota (and yet managed to be the year's first baby of Northwood, Iowa). I remember my dad patiently peering into the darkness of the night sky longing for the color of The Lights. I only recall seeing them once as an adolescent when we visited my grandparents. Sightings were exceptionally rare. The Lights didn't change place, we did. Our home was Texas. Daddy shared stories of the Northern Lights and their beauty. Who could question the presence of God with such splendor?

I remember thinking the stories about The Lights were just a tale. Maybe you’ve thought that too. Or perhaps like I did, you’ve thought the whole God-thing was just once-upon-a-time. I promise, it isn’t. God is as real as the sun that gives The Lights their energy and the particles that give them their color. God is mystical – and like The Lights sometimes appears to play hide-and-seek. But it isn’t so. God is always with us longing to connect and hoping for us to see. And if we are patient; willing to wait through the darkest of night; we catch a glimpse of God’s brilliant majesty and glory – if only for a moment. We stand shivering, yearning to see more.

© 2012 Virginia O. Bassford

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