I love looking up into the night sky and seeing the stars.
I’ve always loved stargazing. As a child I would lie on my trampoline and count shooting stars at night until I fell asleep, cuddled in my sleeping bag and listening to the sounds of sprinklers. There are two nights that stand out in my life where I remember looking up at the stars and being unable to tear my eyes from the sight of them. They were breathtaking; they were intricate. They were the kind of nights where you see the Milky Way in all it’s hazy glory. The first was in Bryce Canyon when I was about twelve years old. The second was at the base of Mt. St. Helens during high school.
When I look up the stars, I see God. The first thing that I think is that God is a brilliant creator. The second thing that comes to mind is something that is always at the back of my mind and comes to the forefront under the sparkling sky. Every time. I know that the mind is a complex thing, but I can count on mine to function in the same framework whenever I look heavenward.
My brain tries to put everything into context and therefore stars point me to history. I sit in the silence and wonder how many people can see what I see. How many people are looking up at the same stars? How many people have been looking at these same stars for millennia? I wonder what they think about when they see the bright balls of gas. Do they feel small? Are they sitting in awe? Do they drink in the sight and wonder what or who could have created such a glorious ceiling? Do they think about the connection between them and me, wherever they might be?
I cannot believe how blessed I am. I will never stop having things to be thankful for. There’s a sky that is more beautiful than anything I have ever seen in my entire life. I can see that sky with two working eyes. I have been to places where stars are bright and seen with no pollution hindering things. There is a God that painted that canvas and knows how much I love it. He loves me (and you) enough to be creative, to give us gifts of beauty. The world is not drab and colorless but vibrant and stunning. I could keep this list going, but I think you get my point.
So, the third night in my stargazing memory burns bright.
It happened here in Africa. Two nights ago.
To be completely honest, I’ve been praying for stars for several months now. There have been some beautiful skies since I left the States, mostly seen late at night while everyone sleeps. Romania and Moldova were pretty average, but there were a few nights in Nepal that were pretty. India doesn’t strike me as memorable as far as stars are concerned.
But Africa? This is where I was betting on to begin with. I figured with the landscape, and perhaps the lack of city lights, I might see the beautiful stars again. Most of these nights in Mwanza (as well as the few we were in Nairobi) have been disappointing. Definitely not spectacular.
Then we went to the Serengeti.
We camped outside and I froze because I left my rain fly off in hopes of seeing what I’ve been waiting for.
The Lord did not forget me, nor did he ignore my request. I woke up sometime around 4:00 am and when I opened my eyes I did not care that I was freezing. I did not regret leaving my fly off my tent even though I was sleeping bag-less.
Everything was visible. There, high above me, was the Milky Way. I could find the Big Dipper (which made me think of home). I saw a shooting star make its way across my entire line of vision. It was breathtaking.
It’s funny how little things like stars are so important.
In the stillness, I heard him say, “You’re welcome. I love you.”
And I don’t doubt it for a second.
[As much as I wish I had taken this picture, I didn't. Chris Tanner did. Check out his Flickr here. It's the prettiest picture EVER.]
