Stars

I heard something, or read it, perhaps, recently, about the stars. I don't remember might have said it or where I might have read it, but I did. And that's what matters.

It said this:

God wants you to look at Him the way you look in awe at the stars in the night sky. 

I don't know about you, but I think that's pretty powerful. I mean legit powerful. Ever noticed how you look at the night sky? At the stars? The moon? Ever wonder why God placed that star right there and why that star is brighter than that one and why some are apart of constellations and some are not? You know that feeling of pure awe and wonder? That admiration of the stars' beautiful simplicity?

Last night, we were taking the very special Nathan home. He asked if we could take a detour to an old park in practically the middle of nowhere. My chaperon, the wonderful Mom, agreed. Nathan took me down a path that led through the woods, and up through the canopy of the trees, lo and behold, were the stars! It was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Definitely the most romantic night ever.

But the stars, gosh. The stars. It was dark and the country and the sky was perfectly clear. They were so bright. I hadn't seen stars like that in a long time. I stood in awe. They were beautiful. They were incomprehensibly beautiful. They were perfect.

If we can look at the stars and be so in awe we cannot speak, what must it be like to see God? How wonderful must He be? How incomprehensibly beautiful and perfect?

He must love us a heck of a lot to give us the stars, because in giving us the stars, He gave us a glimpse of Himself.

I like to put pictures in posts, but I know I will not find a picture that expresses the beauty even close to the real thing. Instead I'm giving you an order (yes, I know. The odd teenager hiding behind her keyboard is ordering her readers about): Go outside tonight (or some night) and look at the stars.

The Lighthouse Keeper

I'd like to tell you guys a story.

I know. Another story. There have been lots of those recently, I suppose. Oh well. 

Think about a lighthouse. You know in the top of the lighthouse that area where the person man's the light? Well, he can look out and see everything. He looks out, shining his light. He sees everything. He seas the ocean, all the waves and the foam; he sees the rocks, waves crashing over them, birds landing on them; he sees the sand, coming in and out with the tide, swallowing the feet of innocent beach-walkers; he sees the beach walkers and the children; he sees the dolphins and the fish and the birds and the turtles and shrimp and crabs and reeds and sand spurs and bugs and sea shells. He sees the storm clouds when they're days away, and through the storm he sees the sun, even if no one else can see it. He sees everything. 

A storm comes along. The beach walkers and their children scramble around in fear. The birds squeak and squawk. The critters of the sea bury into the sand and the fish swim all around trying to find somewhere safe. There is general panic everywhere. Except for the man in the lighthouse. He is not afraid. He shines his light and tries to show everyone that the lighthouse is safe and they can stay there. He shines his light and tries to tell them that's going to be okay. But they don't listen. They can't see the light. They're so afraid of the storm above them that they refuse to look up. They keep their eyes downcast. They are afraid. 

Sometimes people do look up. The light hurts and it's overwhelming, and some shrink away, going back to their panic. But some continue to look, and some adjust to the light and follow it to the lighthouse. These brave souls are the ones that find the lighthouse keeper. They are given blankets and dry clothes and hot chocolate with marshmallows to warm themselves.The lighthouse keeper tells them stories. Stories of how long he's tried to get them to find him. Stories of the people that came. Stories of the people that didn't. Even stories of the people who came, and then left.

The people in the lighthouse vow never to leave. They vow to stay forever within the safety of the lighthouse's light; they vow to stay near the keeper of the lighthouse. Some of them keep their promises. But some see the storm clear away outside, but cannot see far enough to see the storm clouds just around the corner.

The people that stay in the lighthouse are safe forever. They love the lighthouse keeper. They never have to worry about the storms or the cold or the fear ever again. They are home.

Let's go home to the lighthouse.

The Tenor and The Soprano

I want to tell you a story. It's a very nice story, actually.

It starts in a chorus room. Imagine this. It's the beginning of a new school year. It's far enough into the year that seats and voice parts have been assigned, but most everyone knows only themselves. Imagine a girl, a soprano, sitting right next to the tenors. Imagine a boy, a tenor, sitting right next to the sopranos. The year goes on. People learn their neighbors. The tenor talks to the soprano. The soprano talks to the tenor. They become friends.

The tenor is one of six guys in the classroom. In his voice people hear the echo of a speech impediment. Sometimes people mention it. The soprano sticks up for him. The tenor comes to realize that she is the one.

He waits a year for her. School separates them. They come back and have the same lunch period. The tenor sits with the soprano, who would have been sitting utterly alone otherwise. They begin to talk again. They talk like the use to.

I'm going to cut to the chase. Mainly because my sister wants to get on the computer.

The tenor and the soprano become a duet. It's one of the happiest periods in the soprano's life. She feels like the luckiest girl in the world.The soprano thanks God everyday for the tenor. Neither of them are perfect. But both of them are good for each other, and so now they are together.

This story is incomplete. Only time will tell what the next chapter will hold. But for now, enjoy this picture of a giraffe.