“Let the morning bring me word of Your unfailing love,
for I have put my trust in You. Show me
the way I should go, for to You I lift up my soul.”
Prissie had never been a morning person, but that changed once Koji moved into their house. Every morning before sunrise, he’d tap on her bedroom door on his way past. And she couldn’t ignore his gentle invitations. “Coming,” she called softly.
“I will be in the garden,” he replied.
Quickly dressing, Prissie tiptoed downstairs and grabbed her jacket from its peg. She stepped into her gardening clogs, then out into the predawn chill of a new day. Mist hung in the air. Dew clung to every blade of grass as she picked her way along the stepping stones that led around the corner of their farmhouse. Koji stood under Grandma Nell’s fancy arched trellis, inspecting its riot of climbing vines.
“Good morning,” she murmured, her breath puffing.
“It is,” Koji replied. “I wish to see these flowers greet the dawn.”
“The morning glories?”
“Indeed.” He touched the tightly furled points of several closed flowers—pink, purple, blue. “Have you witnessed their response to sunrise?”
Prissie grudgingly admitted, “I’ve heard about it, but … no. I don’t really have a reason to come out here this early.”
Koji peeked at her out of the corner of his eyes. “Until now?”
“Obviously,” she mumbled.
The young angel stepped closer and lowered his voice. “The glory of the sun is a foretaste of the Son’s glory.”
“Glory,” she echoed. For the first time, Prissie realized something embarrassing. “I’m not sure I know what glory means.”
With a thoughtful expression, Koji choose other words. “Brightness. Radiance. Brilliance.”
Koji nodded. “God is like the light of morning at sunrise on a cloudless morning, like the brightness after rain.”
Prissie looked to the east, where the sky had turned pink. “God is like the glory of morning?”
“He wraps Himself in light, as with a garment,” her friend quoted.
Another verse she couldn’t put her finger on. But the idea was just as beautiful. Smiling, she pointed out, “Your raiment shines. Are angels dressed in light, too?”
Koji looked down at the clothes he wore because he was disguised as an ordinary boy. Soft flannel. Bright cotton. Jeans with the cuffs rolled up above the level of dewy grass. “I no longer look like those who wear shining clothes, whose faces flash like lightning.”
“But you still sing like an angel,” Prissie hinted. The pink had changed to peach and pale yellow. Daybreak was moments away.
Without further prompting, Koji spread his arms wide and sang about a trumpet blast, the eastern sky, and a glorious appearing. Light gained strength. Mists scattered. And all along the vines, dozens of tiny trumpets unfurled to greet the glory of the morning.
♦ There’s a hymn that begins, “When morning gilds the skies, my heart awaking cries, May Jesus Christ be praised.” What is your first thought each morning?
♦ Koji quoted Psalm 104:2 and 2 Samuel 23:4 in this scene. What kind of light do you like best?
♦ What will the trumpets soon herald, according to 1 Thessalonians 4:16?