I've had some long days this week. Really long days. Not just physically long, but emotionally draining. I walked to my van after a particularly difficult day, slowly crossing the dark parking lot, dreading the long drive home and busy schedule the next day held. Other than my weary body and worrisome thoughts it was a perfect night. I savored the smell of the fresh night air, and enjoyed the feel of the cool breeze through my hoodie. It helped clear my mind. I took a deep breath and looked up as I neared the van. I saw a perfectly clear inky black sky. And there they were. As clear and predictable as ever, the bright pinpoints of stars in their familiar constellations. Always the same, but the wonder of their beauty and simplicity never diminishing.
I've heard people describe the creation of the stars as being "flung into space," like God scooped a handful of diamonds from his paint box and tossed them onto the canvas of the night sky to see where they would fall. I picture God thoughtfully hanging each star in the heavens, drawing pictures with them, purposely hiding them for us to find, and in so doing, declaring to us His glory.
I stood there with my head tilted upwards for several minutes. I felt out of place before, but somehow the stars brought everything back into perspective. I didn't want to move. I wanted to stare at them forever, to drink in a portion of their consistency and absorb some of the peace they have from knowing they are exactly where God wants them.
Stars don't move. Why do I feel as if I always have to be? What would happen if I stopped looking for the next best thing and fully embraced what He put in front of me to enjoy and serve Him in today? He has placed me right here, right now, to complete a picture, to declare His glory. Yet there I go, trying so hard to figure out where I should be that I miss it completely.
Stars don't move. That is part of their beauty. If only I could learn such contentment.