Under the Stars
Since the weather turned warm in the last couple of weeks, I’ve found myself especially glad to be out under the stars in the evening. The bugs aren’t hatched out yet. And the trees in my yard are still cooperating with my desire for a view to the heights. Soon foliage will block a large piece of the sky above our little patch of earth.
Tonight when we got home from church my daughter asked to sing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” So we did. We stood in the driveway, as we’ve done dozens of times, looking up and singing. I started this with her a long time ago now it seems. I still hold her in my arms while we both crane our necks back and sing. She surprised me tonight when at the end of our singing, still looking up, she said, “I love you, God.” And then giggled.
Earlier this week I sat out on the new play deck in our backyard for a while after dark. As I peered through the tree branches, which were just starting to leaf out, I found it somehow mysterious and comforting that we all sit under those exact stars. Even if we have a roof or clouds, or a canopy of trees over head, the stars are still out there. And they are the same stars that everyone who has ever lived on the planet looked up to see. Ancestors. Strangers. Enemies. Hermits. Politicians. Poets. Philosophers. Children. All God’s creatures. They and we have all lived our days and nights under the same stars.
This reality helps ease my mind of its troubles and problems too fleeting to deserve so much of my attention. And it also puts into some perspective the seeming enormity of other things. Helps me join my daughter in saying, “I love you God.” And on a good night, even add a giggle.
