I walked Bear outside as he demanded, before my part of earth turned towards the sun. The air yesterday morning was full of mist and fog like some of the clouds had come to lie down and stretch out on the earth. But not this morning. There was so much sky filled with a heavy scattering of stars that I stopped to stand still under it.
The pines, oaks, magnolias, and others framed it nicely showing me the depth of it with their nearness. As I looked up at those diamonds, I imagined them being flung from God’s hand, from an endless bucketful, He scoops and scatters them to make beautiful what I see. And yet, most of what He has created I will not ever see in this life. Some things seem to exist only for Him, like fish and sea creatures that live in depths no human can visit. But those stars.
Those stars stop me in my tracks. I always get a sense that they are mine somehow, but not a gift I can hold, but a gift I can be in a kind of relationship with, like the rest of creation. I look up and it feels like they turn their sparkling faces towards me, and one whispers, “There’s Robin! She’s outside – shine bright!”
I feel it, hear their voices, and their light speaks as the earth turns and declares thanks to God, and I can walk in the light they share with me, for me. And I respond like a child, “You are beautiful shining there! Thank you for inspiring me! Thank you for doing exactly what God created you to do!”
And my words aren’t enough and I’m silenced by my own inability to describe, to praise. I stand and stare and enjoy the view, and wonder about the billions of stars beyond these who are shining for me, reflecting sun’s light and God’s handiwork. I want to see those, too.
And Bear is at my feet, ready to return to bed and we go back inside. I return to the warmth of the covers and a sweet man beside me, and I’m full. Full of awe at God’s love and dazzled at what I’ve experienced on a cool October morning.
And just when we think we’ve seen it all, I think it comes to this: I am very small, and God is very big, and He lives in me, and has gifted me with trees and stars, so that I feel the weight of Him near, and He smiles back when I stop to receive the gifts hidden in moments, those things He wants me to realize by stillness. I feel Him say, “Oh, you love it, too, don’t you!” Wait until you see what I show you next!”
And literally, as I type this out, I watch a grey fox gallop across our front yard and disappear into the misty pines. The God who made all this can certainly handle all my concerns and every detail of my day. Thank you, Father. And creation sings of the risen King!
Grace for the day,
From the journal on the table with coffee
(c) Sozo Life & Leadership, LLC, October 2014