Just Because I Can’t See You Doesn’t Mean You Aren’t There

The Perseid Meteor Shower will most likely have come and gone this year without the benefit of my eyes having seen it.  

The good news is that it’s raining.

And we are a dry and thirsty land in great need of the rains.

The other news (it’s not bad news, really) is that the cloud cover means I cannot go lay on the warm August sidewalk in front of my house in the wee hours wrapped in my sleeping bag and watch the night sky yield forth its fruit.

But that’s okay – it’s happening whether I see it or not.

And other folk are getting to see it, and maybe they’re laying on their sidewalks wrapped in sleeping bags too.  I hope so.

It’s a great way to watch the night pass by.

Just because I cannot see you doesn’t mean you aren’t there.

That’s a good thing to remember about a whole host of things, I think.

12 Days of Christmas Rolled Into One

The last 24 hours were remarkably good to me.

The math doesn’t add up (5 golden rings ≠ 4 white-tailed deer), but imagine this sung (badly) to The Twelve Days of Christmas.

Edible Arrangement . . . 

Dinner with new friends . . . 

Cello lesson . . .

Interesting debate . . . 

Roof overhead . . .

Jesus loves me . . .

Car back -- only 5 weeks . . . 

4 white-tailed deer . . . 

3 flocks of birds . . . 

2 shooting stars . . . 

1 black bear . . . 

and the Milky Way

An Edible Arrangement came as a thank you from a friend, who knows I have always coveted my own since she received one from her son when we graduated from seminary.  Better yet, I watched the UPS guy deliver it to my back porch while we sat in Bible Study at the church next door, where he came next to drop off something for Sue, recognizing her car and saving himself the extra trip.

Dining with new friends Priscilla and Bill, I got to enjoy their lovely home and sit under the stars as we huddled around the outdoor wood stove for warmth and enjoyed the setting sun and the wonders of a night sky uncrowded by light pollution.  Tracking flight paths of the distant planes, I saw a shooting star.  When I got home, I took my last look at the night sky and there was another.  If it was an omen, a message, the only lesson I draw is to be blessed by the fleeting beauty and wonder, thankful I could see them.

The sky was so perfect we could see the Milky Way, like light cloud cover over our heads.

The deer, of course, are ever present, but out where they run free, their tails bobbing up offer a white exclamation point to their quick departure.

Earlier in the evening, three distinct flocks of birds rose up from the trees as I drove by (sorry for the intrusion).  I imagined their calls into the setting sun . . . we’re late, we’re late, we’re late, as they rushed southeast.

Indeed it was a very, very good day.

Here's hoping & praying your day comes blessed with its own soundtrack.

City Girls and the Full Moon

“What’s that light that shines through your bedroom window?” asked friend Rhonda, who’s staying with me just now, where I’ve put her up in my room.

“What light?”  I ask.

“It shines through that window,” she, indicating the window facing the Post Office.

“The Post Office light is too dim and low to shine in.  It can’t be that,” I say.

Later in the night we look through the window together – no light, save a very distant street light.  “Is that what you’re seeing?” I ask.

“No,” she, thoughtfully, with puzzlement.

A bit of time – maybe even a day – passes and I come back to her.

“I think you’re seeing the moon.  It’s been coming up to full all week.”

“The moon?!?  No, Beth, it’s not the moon,” says she, with a tinge of pity in her voice.

“Maybe not.  But it’s all I can think of,” says I.

Another day passes.

“It’s the moon,” says she in a quiet voice.

“Thought it might be.  It’s pretty bright in the night sky here.”

“I can’t believe the moon is that bright,” says she.

“Always has been,” says I.

“Night.”

“Night.”

Another day in the mountains.  Another surprise for my city friend.

I smile and go to sleep.