I Forgot the Stars: Remember What You Know

Photo credit to Greg Rakozy.

The power was out.

A few weeks ago, a huge storm not unusual for this time of year had raged through town causing mass destruction. Part of this destruction had left 180 thousand people without power.

Our house was lit with candles and I felt like I should either be singing in Latin or standing in a Jane Austen 18th century ballroom. I couldn't remember ever seeing my neighborhood so black. My neighbor's lamp posts were dark. Their garage lights were indistinguishable. Everything was suppressively dark.

It so happened that we had invited friends over that night which meant we stayed up unusually late (one of the perks of having company over). At one point during the evening I decided to go outside, a strange urge that I hadn't felt in some time.

I slid open the screen door that led to the back yard and darted out into our big yard. Suddenly looking up, I was struck by the stars.

Ever since I was little when my Dad had told me stories about space and given me his astronomy books to look at, I had been fascinated by stars and planets. From where I live the stars are fairly clear, and my yard is open and free of obstructive tree branches. I can see enough of the sky to see the curve toward the horizon and feel the vastness of the earth---but more than that, the vastness of the stars.

Whenever I see the sky and the thousands of stars thousands times bigger than our sun, I'm struck with how small I am and how big God is. My problems seem small. I seem small. Everything seems small except God.

It's often that I go outside and look at the stars. Or, I used to often go out. During the winter it had been cold. During the spring and early summer I had been incredibly busy.

I had forgotten the stars.

To my own surprise, the words that came out of my mouth as I stared up at the sky were,

"God, I'm so sorry I forgot this."

It wasn't really the stars I was talking about. It was a lament that I had forgotten to surrender my insignificance over to God. It was a lament that I had got so zoned in on my small circle that I had forgotten the bigger picture, the bigger story. It was a lament that I had forgotten how tiny this life really is. I needed to remember what I already knew.

This summer I intend to get out my telescope and look at the stars. This summer I intend to go outside during the evening and crane my neck until it hurts.

There are things we all forget. It's often not intentional, but that doesn't make it right. Small lessons and reminders are often just as important as the big ones.

There were a few months where I forgot the stars.

Have you forgotten the stars, too?