Amid unimaginable loss, Rebecca Rosengren shares how St. Lucia’s story—and her new children’s book—brought light to darkness.
My earliest memories of celebrating St. Lucia Day involve tables full of Swedish coffee cake and cookies, night church where one of the girls in high school walked down the aisle with a wreath of burning candles on her head, and finally, my mom’s historical reading to the family during which I’d frequently lose focus. St. Lucia Day, rooted in Swedish traditions, honors St. Lucy, a third-century Christian martyr known for her faith and generosity. Celebrated on December 13, it symbolizes light in the darkness, with processions featuring girls wearing white gowns and candlelit wreaths. I remember wishing for a storybook with pictures that would help my imagination as I listened.
As I grew older, the tale of this brave young girl who lived out her faith in complete surrender amazed me. Her conviction and heart burned brighter than the fear of losing comfort and safety. She lived out her short life filled with the grace and beauty of Christ’s presence amidst cruelty and darkness. This faith sparked a light in countless others across continents and over thousands of years. My heart has grown to treasure her profound faith and heartbreaking story as well as all the traditions that grew from its retelling.
A few years ago, I watched my daughter’s face fill with wonder as she took in the magic of our church’s annual Lucia evening service. The sanctuary was lit by candlelight, filled with the nostalgic sounds of Christmas hymns and the stories of old retold. The children watched with excitement as the lights dimmed and one of the high school girls walked down the sanctuary aisle with a wreath of burning candles adorning her head and carrying a tray with treats. She turned to face the congregation and shared a few verses of Scripture, speaking of God’s light and the fellowship we share as we walk together.
In that moment of celebrating the light we carry in the darkness, I felt compelled to find a children’s book about Lucia that I could share with my daughter. However, after searching for a book that didn’t yet exist, I was inspired to write and illustrate the book myself.
With encouragement from friends and family, I was finally ready to publish at the end of August 2023. My plan was to finalize the book proposal over Labor Day weekend and send it off to potential publishers by that Monday.
But on Friday, September 1, 2023, the unimaginable happened. Our kids went up to our family cottage early that day with their grandparents while my husband and I finished out the work day. In the afternoon we received a phone call. There had been an accident. Our three-year-old son, Elijah, was found in the lake and unresponsive. Within a few hours, our family had a new reality. Eli was in heaven and the life we had together was shattered.
Two days later I was on a walk with a friend. She was encouraging me to use my writing and painting as an outlet for my grief. While explaining how close I was to publishing The Legend of Lucia, I also remembered a new children’s book idea that had randomly popped into my head a couple of years earlier while I was sitting by the water. The plot is essentially an allegory for faith. After two brothers are lost at sea, the younger brother bravely dives into the water to find food, eventually growing gills to breathe underwater, experiencing adventures as he helps his older brother dive in as well.
Overcome by emotions, I wondered why I had even thought of this plot years ago. I had filed it away for later—only to share it at this very moment for the first time. There were too many parallels between this new book idea and Eli’s story for me to ignore. Eli was the youngest brother to McKenna (seven years old) and Bruce (age ten). At the same time, the realization that I had just finished a story of a girl who surrendered her life to follow her faith gripped me. Regardless of all my unanswered “whys?” I know God is with me, giving me what I need to survive or surrender each day. Lucia’s story of faith and all the legends that stir up a deeper, living faith has been a light in the darkness.
Friends helped me finish publishing The Legend of Lucia by December 13, 2023, and I read the final copy to the children during the Lucia service at our church. Just a year earlier, Eli had been on stage next to me as I read the rough draft, and my daughter held up the watercolor paintings for the other kids. The memory of his sweet smile, as I read the story, is crystallized in my mind and heart.
In prayer, God has whispered (or stated very clearly) many reminders, promises, and help. In one instance, he reassured me that no matter how self-conscious or silly I may feel, I need to keep writing, especially the stories of the power and beauty of living faith.
