rise and shine

She was trying to think of something uplifting, something in the vein of Jesus rising from the dead. But nothing came to her. She realized that she was much better at thinking about the sad and awful things, than the divine. She hunkered down. She was determined. She racked her brain. She came up with a few things, but upon analysis, they all had a shadow side, a dark side. Like the times she would traipse into the living room while her mother was watching the news and plant herself in front of the television in some outrageous outfit and dance. Her mother would laugh, and then she would disappear back into her room, remove her costume, and return to business as usual. Back then, it was a delight, now she knows it was some kind of yearning, for her mother to look at her, see her. And yet, could it have been divine? Was it a way of rising from the dead? Then she thinks even harder. She thinks that there is a thing, a thing not yet born, that can never die. It is the quiet hidden holiness permeating everything. This she knows to be true. This rises. This shines.