It’s been one of those weeks that news and happenings were as opposite as the East from the West; stretching my emotions from one spectrum to another.  Grieving with my friend, Arlene, and delighted that the long process of selling my house is finally completed.

Since, I can’t make myself write about either, I’ll write about one beautiful evening this week.

On Saturday night, Caryn and I went to Upper Beaver Meadows to star gaze.  The RMNP rangers set up four large telescopes to view the night sky.  They were armed with more information than I could comprehend or care to know.  I simply wanted to look up into the black sky and see stars twinkle.

Night Sky at RMNP

The night sky, however, wasn’t black.  It was a starlit soft indigo blue.  Some of the stars stood out and sparkled, some twinkled dimly, and others couldn’t be seen without the help of the telescope.  No matter, I stood and gazed up in awe.  I was blanketed between the blackness of the ground and the indigo of the sky and my blanket was covered in brilliance.

In my life, I don’t think I’ve been anywhere that didn’t have some type of ambient light that stole at least part of the vividness of the stars.  The meadow gave the stars their spotlight.  I never knew that satellites orbiting the Earth could be seen with the naked eye, but there were at least three that caught my eye.  A shooting star tracked across the sky from right to left.  I saw the streak, and it disappeared, and in a blink of the eye, reappeared for a brief moment, before once again going dark.

Over the mountains in the distance, we could see the soft glow of light, and one of the rangers told us it was the glow of lights from distance cities.  Instead of being distracting, it outlined the mountain tops in a soft yellow.  As we star gazed, the Milky Way made its appearance . . . banding across the sky as a soft luminous haze.

The rangers were pointing out stars with green laser lights to the people who were standing, like us, gazing up trying to pinpoint a star.  Half the time when they pointed them, we couldn’t see the laser.  One ranger had one that as I stood to his side, I actually saw, so position was important.

There were people who were asking questions that knew about constellations and were talking way over our heads. so Caryn downloaded an app to name the stars and constellations for her when she lifted her phone to the sky, and I followed her lead.  That certainly helped.  We were happy to see a ranger using the app also.

I can’t help but contrast the beauty of that night sky and the brilliance of the stars without any other light distracting from their luminous beauty, with the closeness that I could have with God, without any other distractions of this world.

What if I was His child that shined brightly in a sky that wasn’t competing with the other man made light sources?

What if I…

  • Handed over to Him my worries
  • Read my bible as often as I Facebook
  • Listened for Him as I walked 
  • Praised Him as often as I check my text messages
  • Shared Him with people as often as I write blogs
  • Thought about Him as regularly as I think of desserts.

If I did…

  • Would that I shine as brightly as a child of His  
  • Be a pleasing countenance in life as His representative
  • Be His servant
  • Not be afraid to be His witness
  • Follow Him without question

But here I am…picking up all the ambient light.  Concerned more about this world than the next one.   Being seen as a dim light for God.  Am I the only one who struggles with these distractions in the world?  


Let me shine more for you than for myself.

Do everything without grumbling or arguing.  So you may be blameless and pure, children of God who are faultless in a crooked and perverted generation, among whom you shine like stars in this world.  Hold firmly to the message of life.  Then I can boast in the day that I didn’t run or labor for nothing.

Philippians 2:14-16   (HCSB)

Would you please lift up my sweet friend, Arlene, Mark, and their family in prayer, so that they can find peace and comfort as they grieve the loss of their son.

Since my camera phone wouldn’t pick up the stars, I borrowed a picture from a staff member here at the Y.  Thanks Margy Maguire and David Byrum for the beautiful picture.