Holy, holy, holy ...the whole earth is full of his glory. —Isaiah6:3 (kjv)
Someday, we’re going to build a cabin on a lake,” Daddy was saying as we drove through the night. The scenario was typical for our family trips. My brother and mother would fall asleep, and my daddy and I would sing and tell tall tales and spin wild dreams as we traveled toward our destination. He often talked about this cabin, always adding, “But I can’t build it until I find the perfect place.”
“What’s a perfect place like, Daddy?”
“Well, our front yard will be a lake, and we’ll be able to see mountains in the distance. But here’s the important part: Our cabin will have a perfect sunset.”
Daddy had a sure way of turning dreams into reality, and one day, there we stood on the shore of a lake, looking across at a mountain chain. “This is it, Pam-bo. I’ll build our cabin on the hill.” He did, and somehow as the years passed, our cabin sunsets seemed to become more glorious.
After Daddy died, my mother divided some of her assets with my brother and me; my husband and I inherited the cabin. The years were lean and holding on to that house was difficult, but it was a legacy far more valuable than anything material and we made sacrifices to keep it.
Now, a third generation skips rocks across the lake. They swim and fish and fly high on the swing set of my youth. But when the day nears its end, something happens as the sun edges the mountain and splashes its outlandish colors across the sky. As heaven and earth touch, the golden hour descends and we inherit the riches of my father’s estate once again. Daddy chose this place for the sunset because even then, he had a way of knowing the kind of gold that lasts.
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