Watching The Stars Past And Present

A long time ago when I was a young girl, my dad would invite me to go outside after the dishes were done and it was dark. We would sit in the backyard on our lawn chairs and look up at the stars together.

On those warm summer nights, he would talk a little about the constellations above us, but mostly we just sat quietly together.

I grew to love those evenings, and I grew to love the stars. Collectively, as humans, we wish upon them. We try to count them. We get our bearings from them, and we are thankful for their beauty.

The Hubble Space Telescope left the earth in 1990, and remains in operation to this day. I watched a video a while ago about the Pillars of Creation, which were spotted by the telescope as it traveled through space. Essentially, it’s a “stellar nursery,” according to the Internet. It’s an incubator for newborn stars.

Isn’t that amazing! Doesn’t that sound like our Divine Father? He incubates human life – and the stars.

A few weeks ago my husband and I drove south — and found ourselves back in autumn.

Southern Indiana had had two strong wind storms before our trip, so our leaves were mostly down; but in the South, the trees were still showing off.

As we drove through the valleys, the hills around us were coated with soft crimsons, fiery oranges and warm yellows.

We drove up a lot of hills and around some curves in the road before seeing our son, Michael, and his wife, Melissa, and meeting our new grandson, Moses. Seeing the glow on Michael’s face as we looked at his newborn son was worth the long and arduous drive.

We spent our time getting to know Moses, and admiring the way that he yawned and stretched, and the sweet way that he opened one eye as he emerged from his naps. And we admired the gentle and loving parenting skills, which were developing day by day in my son’s home.

One night Michael invited me to go outside to his deck to see his telescope. He started pointing out the stars above us and telling me their names.

We talked a little, but mostly we just stood quietly together and studied the sky.

It’s been over 50 years since I sat outside with my dad and admired God’s handiwork in the midnight blue sky.

A lot has happened during those years. Deaths. Weddings. Births. Moves. Jobs. Now it’s the end of 2014, and — wonder of wonders — I find myself standing on a hill with my boy as his boy sleeps inside their house.

After all these years, the stars are still there. They are waiting to be counted. We can still wish upon them, and we are thankful for their beauty.

And, after all these years, I know they can help to navigate us home.

After all, they lead us to God, reminding us He is their creator and ours.