July 15, 2013 by Erin
Grand as a Million Stars
I was recently reminded how “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge. They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them. Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world” (Psalm 19: 1-4). I know this doesn’t have line breaks, but I’m counting it as a poem anyway.
The chill settles in, and I try unsuccessfully to ward it off by tucking the blanket in around me. I’m actually shaking, but it’s a cold I like. Shivers come so rarely in July. Chimes ring in the wind, the noise drawing my gaze downward for just a moment before you gasp and point. Another one. I’m astonished by the eighth or tenth shooting star tonight, wondering at how each one is a little different.
Constellations shift as we talk of the Love that moves them, that moves us. It’s all so big — this expanse, this God, this Grace — wide and long and deep. And still we feel it close, see it woven through our lives. Grace grand as a million stars, nearer than this blanket, and warmer too.
A night of contradictions, yes. Like the hush I feel before such grandeur coming out in so many words: stumbling sentences for hours while I sense only a deep quiet. Stopped time marked by the movement of planets. The waking rest of being and being with.
Conversation brings in morning — you note that birds wake up at 5:20 am. The Love that moves the stars says again to the sun: Rise. And I wonder how I’ve slept through so many nights like this.