Looking out the Window: Olivia Sykora Talks about Her New Book, Son of the Mountain King, Mountain King Trilogoy Book 1. Shares a Devotional and an Excerpt
A Warm Welcome to O. R. Sykora
Hi Olivia, Thank you for sharing an inspirational devotional with us and telling us about your new book.
Light Reflections
by O.R. Sykora
I love gazing at the moon. My three-year-old has an uncanny knack for spotting the moon whenever it’s visible in the bright morning sky, a dimly glowing crescent that, sure enough, hangs exactly where she’s pointing. But I prefer the view of a full moon lighting up the night sky (and not because it’s easier to find!). I’ll never forget the first time a friend invited me to see the moon through her high-powered telescope, the rise and fall of every crater imprinting on my memory. Each luminous detail through the glass only heightened my enjoyment of the moon I see now with the naked eye. But the essential beauty element does not belong to the moon itself. The glowing pearl of the midnight sea is nothing but a dark, blemished rock without its true source of light: the sun. The moon’s glory is a reflected glory.
I love allegories. Reading them, writing them, chewing over them. They glow with reflected light, their moonlike beauty drawing from a source outside themselves. I’ll never forget the moment that, as a child, I caught the first glimpse of the true Story behind Aslan on the Stone Table in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. The tale suddenly shone with meaning deeper than itself, giving it beauty beyond the dark, bare text.
Webster’s definition of allegory includes the phrase, “symbolic representation.” In a sense, are we not each as believers a kind of allegory–a symbolic representation–of Christ to the world? II Corinthians 2:14 uses the sense of smell to communicate this idea: “Now thanks be to God who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and through us diffuses the fragrance of His knowledge in every place.” And our Savior Himself compares His life in us as a light to the world: “‘You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do they light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven’” (Matthew 5:14-16). The beauty of the moon lies in its being a “symbolic representation” of the sun. Similarly, as believers, we, too, shine with light not our own, reflecting and representing Christ to the world. Am I reflecting and representing Christ in my thoughts and words today? Am I reflecting and representing Christ in my choices and actions? Am I reflecting and representing Christ in my values and attitudes? Or does my barren rock of self apart from Christ overshadow the light?
Let us keep in step with the Spirit, that He might open our eyes with discernment and enable our hearts with persisting strength to “walk in the light as He is in the light” (see 1 John 1:5-7). Then by the grace of God the allegory of our lives–our symbolic representation of Christ–will shine brightly with the light of the Son. The world’s midnight will thus be pierced with the glory of God on the faces of innumerable saints.
Prayer: Holy, glorious Father, I am nothing apart from You. All glory belongs to You alone. By Your grace, reflect the light of the Savior through my life today, that all may see You and praise Your Name. Amen.
About Son of the Mountain King, Mountain King Trilogy Book 1
When an invasion threatens the land of the Mountain King, the fate of the people rests on the shoulders of young governor Judah. She has sworn to prove herself a skillful leader by protecting her kingdom from foes, but difficulty and danger surround her.
Then Judah’s life is saved by two different men who divide her loyalty. One, a fascinating healer, captures the hearts of Judah and her people. The other, a mysterious shepherd, forces Judah to question what she believes to be true.
When a conspiracy comes to light that could destroy Judah and her kingdom, a single choice might cost her people everything. Will the headstrong leader prove herself—or find herself trapped?
https://youtu.be/huSXWgdM_EU?si=7Brokw8tQhXvwjWV
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Pelican Book Group (publisher)
Excerpt
That night, the familiar squeak of wood rent the air as Mesda shoved closed the old oak door. A shaft of light poured through a gap at the bottom. As this part of the castle was rarely visited after dark, she did not worry about being seen.
This story had begun long before.
That night, an old woman spread a large piece of parchment on the rough table, unaware at that time of how many lives would be affected by what she was to record. A sense of urgency bade Mesda hurry the work that must be finished in the coming hours. Dragging the other two pieces of furniture in what she liked to call her “cell,” the woman arranged the tools of her trade on a plain cot and turned the three-legged stool until its worn seat faced the table. Time was short. She grumbled as the parchment persisted in rolling like a potato bug. Stones which had chipped from the crumbling walls finally solved the problem. Mesda then placed her two most important objects alongside the parchment: a stained, worn pot of black ink and a graceful quill. With one final critical look at the tip, she sighed and closed her eyes.
Words came to the woman as they always did. Quietly, insistently. Her hand flew across the page. Strong, elegant, like a heron soaring over the Great River. Words poured out until precise black marks flooded the parchment. Her long braid brushed her back with furious rhythm. Hours slipped by, driven by the urgency within to complete the task given by the Master.
The moon had risen high to send light through the tiny upper window before the woman finally paused. Only then did she lower her quill and allow her forehead to drop to the table as she listened.
It was complete.
Mesda stretched her neck and shoulders slowly. Her hands were numb, but she knew pain would come soon, sharp and strong. Meanwhile, the moon gazed through the window, an ancient friend who surely would not tire of an old woman’s mumblings. “I am getting old.” She winced. Needlelike sensations were beginning at her fingertips. “I do not know why the Master thinks me still worthy of the work.” The cot groaned in harmony with her bones as she crawled onto it and lay with a grunt. Surely, her sister would tolerate waiting for a few minutes more.
Her sister.
Mesda stretched, watching the moon. Perhaps her sister was right to pursue a warrior’s life instead of a scholar’s path. She’d had her excitement, and now she gracefully doled out advice and justice like so many nuggets while the scholar-scribe had continued to work her neck into a spasm. Still. There was honor in all work assigned by the Master, warrior and scribe alike.
Mesda smiled, grateful for her own part, awash with a moment of youth until a twinge in her shoulder brought her back. It was time to rise. By now, her sister would be impatiently waiting to receive the scroll and deliver it yet farther to the governors.
Bio
Olivia is an author, globetrotter, and educator. While traveling through 30+ countries, her adventures have ranged from exploring Istanbul's Grand Bazaar to dining with Roma royalty in Romania to summitting Tanzania's Mt. Kilimanjaro. Olivia taught middle school English for many years before retiring to raise her kids and to write. She lives with her husband and two daughters in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, where they hike, kayak, and explore.
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