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Night sky with text

Starry Nights and Leaky Lights

It was absolutely mesmerizing.  Even lying there on our backs, the cool night air swirling above our still bodies; grass poking around the edges of the blanket beneath us, tickling our feet. It was astounding.

Oregon’s night sky seemed to go on forever. I would imagine traveling to the deepest parts of space while Mom explained that the view was so much better away from city lights. She would point out the Little Dipper, then the Big Dipper. She would point to Orion’s Belt and a few other constellations and then tell me she wasn’t really sure if had them right. But to me, it didn’t matter.

I was five. She was Mom. And she knew so much.
She was sharing the sky with me, telling me about the stars, the galaxies, light years, space, and Abraham.
“And aliens?”
“Well, I haven’t met any.”
Abraham, Mom said, saw the same stars. Look! There goes a shooting one! God showed him these stars, stars that He had made, and told Abraham about me.
Starry Night photo with text
 God told Abraham about all the children who would come from him.
“How did I come from Abraham?”
“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”
Sigh…. “You always say that.”

And He took him outside and said,

“Now look toward the heavens, and count the stars, if you are able to count them.”

And He said to him, “So shall your descendants be.”

As summer’s sun slipped behind our wooden fence, we stared into the film of sky slowly growing darker and darker. I’d lock my eyes onto the fading light and wait for the stars to come out, and I’d wonder. What if…
What if those are all just holes up there? The sky is really old, you know. Little tears brought on by years of constant wear. Or maybe angels were bored and poked them there. I got bored; I could understand.
And what happens when God moves the light, the sun, so we could sleep- but there are holes in the curtain of the sky? His light leaks through.
Photo of stars at night, and text
My little eyes would stare into the inky black and ponder. And think. Wonder. And eventually, they would close. Mom would scoop me up, blanket and all, carry me in from our backyard, and tuck me into my bed to dream about what might really be going on up there.
And still sometimes… I wonder. I wonder just what is going on up there. I rest my gaze upward into dark heavens and midwestern breezes chill my arms. I think of how far those lights reach, and how old the sky is. I think of Abraham, promises, and truths that do not change. Mom and I have yet to meet space aliens, but angels…. perhaps a few. And some days? Some days are darker than night. Not all; but some. So much hurting. So much darkness that I wonder if God does not move the sun at night in order to rest His own eyes. How He must grieve.
Yet, joy comes in the morning. ANd in the morning, His mercies are new. And always, His faithfulness is great.
My friend. May His light leak through you, as you take your place among a dark expanse. It is deep and seemingly endless. But He already knew you- before you were born. Before even Abraham. Your view may be filled with daylight or night- but let His light shine. May His face shine upon you, His brilliance beam from your face like Moses’.

And those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky above;

and those who turn many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever.

 Those holes in the sky sparkle in the absence of surrounding light. Leak His Light.


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