Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.

That phrase hit me last night, just before I drifted off to sleep. 

The Father of Lights.

I can only sit back and think of all the wonderful lights I have known.  The light of the sun and stars, the soft light of the forest, the brilliant light glinting off the Atlantic Ocean, the heavy, sweet light of dusk, the flickering lights on the Christmas tree, the light of a candle, the light in someone's smile...in their eyes...

And yet...all these lights have a Father.  His beauty far exceeds that of anything which has been created.  All the light and glory which we have only glimpsed on this mortal soil is bound up and brought to completion in Him.  Such beauty is incomprehensible, unfathomable.

To see the Father of Lights.

My head can't contain the glory of the thought.