Night Vision

MBDog likes to cruise the property when the weather is nice, which is great unless you’re in a hurry. Therefore, we take him out on a leash in the mornings before work. This little routine often affords me a few minutes of peace and reflection as I stand in the clean early air. Often it’s the only quiet time of my day. But lately I rush through these moments just like all the others, barely noticing their passing.

I took MBDog out the other morning and looked up at the sky, more than anything to see if it was cloudy and try to gauge the day’s weather. There was indeed a cover of clouds across the sky … all except one spot. A perfect window right around the constellation of Orion. The edges of the window even followed the lines of the constellation in perfect increment – and I was there to see it at just the ideal time. It was as if God were reminding me of this night, when I took the time to absorb the experience. I used to take notice of so many things like that … I smiled wistfully, wondering why I didn’t do so anymore.

The following morning, I took MBDog out and looked up again. The sky was clear, without so much as a wisp of a cloud, and the stars stabbed through the black velvet night. So many stars. I’d somehow halfway forgotten how many stars there are above our country home, far from city lights, and I wondered how they’d been hiding from me.

Part of it had to do with that sun rising earlier in the summertime – for a good part of the fair seasons, dawn is breaking as we get ready for our days. But we often take MBDog out on his leash right before bed, at which time it is always night.

Then I realized, we usually have the flood lights on. Part of our security system for the back of the property and around the barn consists of flood lights. They are bright enough to light the whole area around our house, and in turn, bright enough to obscure the eyes from picking up subtle starlight. Stargazing on our deck with the floods on is akin to stargazing in the city – the views gets lost in the noise of artificial light.

That morning, the floods were off. I had not turned any lights on at all, and my eyes were perfectly adjusted to the darkness. It was then that the canopy of stars sang down to me, and I could see their music. For the first time in quite a while.

I’ve been feeling down for a long time, for no good reason. The summer has passed in a busy yet nondescript blur – I have few memories of the season at all. My quiet moment in the pre-dawn darkness under the stars the other morning got me thinking that maybe it’s the blinding wash of routine and hustle that is fading out the dainty sparkle of each day's joy.

The stars aren't hiding from me, I just can't see them. The flood lights stewing in my head are too bright, and are giving me life blindness.

I don’t know where the switch is, but I need to seek it out, find it, and turn it off for a period of time each day. Then just settle myself, allowing my heart and mind’s eyes to adjust – away from the brightness, so I can again relish the blessings of my wonderful family, my dear friends, my great job and rewarding hobbies. So I can again see the subtle beauty of each moment.

So I can reconnect with God as He tries to reconnect with me.