Sky High Love

Taking the dogs out once more before going to bed, my eyes turned to the sky and I felt my feet come to a standstill on the driveway. Over and around me, the sky stretched out; immense and painted with color, patterns and textures that more than rivaled the master painters. Because I have the habit to sing, well – anywhere; a song came out, "His Eye is on the Sparrow.” All I could do was stand, stare and sing; and of course keep an eye on the dogs who might go wandering.   

“For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him” Psalm 103:11

 

Just thinking of the space between where my toes met the ground below and the reach of the heavens above, the immensity of the love described was breathtaking. I stretched out my arms, filled up my lungs with air, and took up only a tiny fraction of that space. 

Such love can feel too large and powerful for me to comprehend; beautifully overwhelming to the touch and sight. I think this is why the thought of the sparrow is the one that first came to me.

“And not one of them is forgotten before God. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.”  Luke 12:6b-7

The tiny bird that many would deem to be insignificant is not forgotten by the Creator. The knower of the large and small, is in the magnificence of the heavens and in the infinite subtlety of a tiny creature of flight. As I continue to view the sky, my heart was full to overflowing. 

Anticipation of a Western Sky

   I stood outside of a campground laundry, listening to the dryers run and watching my breath fog up in front of me. Then, looking up I saw something that took my breath away. The sky was completely full of stars. I mean, I have seen star filled skies before, but nothing like this. Without cities around, I really understood for the first time why it was called the Milky Way.

   Now, I’m looking forward to seeing that sight again. I can’t wait until I get to see that sight again. There is a grandeur to this planet that can take my breath away. Mountains that sweep up to the sky in strong peaks and hidden vales are home to the most amazing climbers, goats that seem to have feet that could never hold them on the tiny ledges – but do. Plains that move with the wind like the ocean, and hold a smell from a purple clover like plant that just smells purple, the birds dip and dive over the plants. Lupine growing in valleys, purple and pink, with bees that travel from petal to petal searing out hungrily for food. Tiny little insects and giant buffalo, geysers and crystal clear ice chilled pools. I do long to see that sky again, and once again sing, “How Great Thou Art.”

Why is the Sky Blue

   My moment of helping with the Christmas decoration taking down took the form of helping remove the lights from the trees. I’m not sure if the memory was triggered of the sound of the lights and the cord moving against the feathery evergreen branches or something else, but I remembered a moment years ago. I was sitting in a dark room with many others, high school students and camp counselors. Bunk beds lined the walls and the metal structure sounded the rain plainly.

   I was at the Space Academy camp in Huntsville, Alabama. A tornado warning had been sounded and we had all been moved into the dorms of one of the groups. Those metal walls didn’t much to shield us from the sound of the rain and many were starting to get nervous. You could just feel the tension in the room. Quietly, our counselor called us together and asked us if we knew why the sky was blue.
   What? That question caught me, the me that is not so fond of tornadoes, completely by surprise. I wasn’t the only one. Soon we were in a conversation about light spectrums and how light bends and is created as color in our eyes. Being the rather overzealous, passionately curious, intellectual personality types, we just couldn’t resist that conversation. For the counselor, it was rather a brilliant move to distract what could have been a bunch of hysterical teenagers.
   I’m not quite sure what jogged that memory last night, but it did and now I am thinking again about why the sky is blue.