Milky Way

I've just returned from trying to wrap my head around the galaxy. I shouldn't have been doing that, because now my head is stretched out and sore, and not much was accomplished in that regard. I'm not sure exactly what I was expecting would happen, but in spite of my better judgment, I was drawn to find a high spot where I could watch the sun disappear behind the distant mountains. The Old Faithful Observation Point seemed perfect, so I hiked up the hill quickly and perched myself on a rock, ready to witness glory. I soon realized - as I have so many times before - that glory revealed itself not in a grand display of extravagance but in the serene peacefulness that overwhelmed me. I opened my Bible and read a bit about the Love of Christ (as described by John), then looked around. There's something fantastically satisfying about reading the Bible in these types of settings. It's as if God is reading over your shoulder, saying things like, "Ooh, this is one of my favorite chapters!" or, " Yeah, that part about my love? Look around you, buddy. Here it is."

As the stars started coming into view, I found myself smiling. I don't know why I was smiling, but I have my suspicions that it had something to do with the fact that the stars were coming into view. If it's true that the stars in the night sky are really just tiny holes into heaven, then I've never been closer to the pearly gates. I must've seen a half-dozen meteors in an hour. The Milky Way was draped across the sky like a great celestial feather boa. There were so many stars that I cast a shadow.

Yet even as I was lost in the grandeur of it all, my mortal body reminded me that it was very cold and I am very tired. I've actually nodded off a few times while typing this... But in spite of humanity's rude calling, my mind is still lost among the stars - my soul still perched on the hill, trying to measure the night sky.