Stargazing, Gazing at Stars

I am enamored with the night sky. You see, I'm a night runner, actually just an all-around night person. And when I return home from my nightly running, I have made a beautiful habit of simply laying in my driveway, throwing my gaze upward, and indulging in the absolute wonder of it all. To see that scene, to take in the utter extravagance of such a quaint yet monstrous simplicity, and not be humbled is something I could never even begin to fathom. It's heaven. Both literally and figuratively.

I'm kind of addicted to it, hopelessly and wonderfully addicted, if I'm being honest here. You see, being belittled is usually a very frustrating and/or annoying thing for me, as it is for the vast majority of us. But I consider it nothing but an incredible honor when I look up at the night sky and feel small. It almosts begs you to croon, "Belittle me more." Because it's that good; it's that awesome.

Now I don't know all of the technical names & jargon & all that jazz; some day I certainly hope to. But for now, I am content to gaze. Sometimes, I find myself so lost in it that an hour or two or more will go by, and I won't even have the faintest clue - or care, for that matter. Because sometimes, you just have to learn how to savor. Too often, we're so bent on documenting the moment that we fail to remember how to truly be in the present and what it means to pause and to ponder and to reflect. It makes you realize that the superficial things that seemed so important that day weren't all that important. Perspective changes. And a changed perspective proceeds to change everything else for the better. Suddenly, you're reminded of how big your God is. And how uncontainable He is. And how uncontainable you are because He is.

It's a glorious little thing, stargazing. The magnitude, the loveliness, the ceaselessness.

I pray that one day everyone will come down with a chronic case of stargazing fever. Ah.