An Outdoor Shower

A few days ago, I enjoyed the awesome privilege of taking a shower outdoors.  No, I didn’t go outside in my birthday suit and wash off in our outdoor shower.  Brrr! Instead, I bundled up against the cold in my seldom used LLBean puffer coat, wool scarf, hat and gloves. Armed against the cold and with steaming coffee in hand, I ventured out into the darkness of early morning for another kind of shower.  It was 5:45 a.m.  The sky was dark, so very dark. The new moon cycle and the lack of ambient light combined to set the stage for something special to appear.  The below-freezing temperatures only added to the experience. Up above me the stars were spread out like a sea of glitter more striking than any of the Christmas decorations that festooned my home this year.   Like a spectator in an old-time drive-in movie, I pulled a dusty lawn chair over to the edge of my cliff-top yard and waited for the show to begin.

That morning in rural Texas was the prime viewing time and location for the Quadrantids meteor shower to appear in the Northeast skies.  The conditions were perfect for an amazing display, or so the meteorologist had described during the previous night’s news.  Nowadays, any words on the nightly news like perfect and clear and beautiful are to be noted, treasured and heeded.  Heed them I did, since the conditions were also perfect for me.  The house was quiet after a busy holiday time with family. A perennial early riser, I grabbed the chance to use the solitary morning time to full advantage. That predawn time was mine to savor. I could feel the Heavens beckoning me:

Sit. Look Up. Wait. Marvel.

My early morning vigil was soon rewarded.  As I leaned back and let my eyes adjust to the night sky above, gradually more and more clusters of stars appeared.  The meteors’ lights streaked randomly across the sky, some bright and flashing, some hazy spots that vaguely resembled tiny clouds. They appeared and disappeared for seconds only.   An added bonus was the crystal-clear sight of The Big Dipper constellation right above me.  As I drank my coffee and drank in the view, the knowledge of the eternal and reliable patterns of our universe seeped into my body, my soul and my spirit.  My mind filled with wordless prayers. I began to picture the faces of those I love and have loved, those nearby and those far, far away.  As I pictured each face, I simply held them there in my consciousness. Petitions and concerns fell away. As surely as God knows the names of the stars (Psalm 147:4), God knows my prayers. That morning was a time to pause and trust and wonder, not a time to detail the overwhelming needs that surround all of us. Yes, you were all there with me, faithful friends and readers, children, spouse, grandchildren, sisters and brothers of kin and kith, those long departed and those whose lives are just unfolding. My breathing slowed and peace blanketed me. It did not matter that the display was sporadic and the sights not overly dramatic. Just when I thought the star-lit show was over, another meteor would streak by above me. I lingered despite my chilly nose and the cold seeping in through my fuzzy house shoes.  Soon, too soon, the sky began to lighten and the stars and meteors faded from view. I turned to the kitchen for a coffee refill, also re-filled with hope and energy for the busy days and weeks ahead.

What an incredible gift, those glittering stars and flashing meteors!  We have just celebrated a time of starry wisdom. Advent and Epiphany are all about stars: stars that marked the birthplace of a Savior; stars that led humble shepherds to leave their work-a-day lives behind; stars that guided learned magi to seek and ultimately find beauty and hope in a chaotic world.  Here on this very hill centuries later, I too was pausing, leaving work and cares behind, following an impulse, seeking something I scarcely understood. I didn’t have to pack my camel for a journey or leave my little sheep untended while I hustled off to an unknown location. I had only to step outside in order to experience the miraculous display of the heavens. Even so, I could have let the opportunity slip by while I slept or puttered around the kitchen or filled my mind with plans and projects. Instead, on that morning I heeded a mysterious call: to Be Still and Know That I am God.(Psalm 46:10):  to see the Heavens declare the glory of God.  (Psalm 19:1); to recall that God is ever mindful of us as precious parts of God’s universe (Psalm 8:4-6). 

Here on earth, we pause, we pray, we wait; we hope…  and we marvel, yes, we do. We marvel that we can lift up our eyes to the heavens and become one with something much bigger than ourselves.  We can see the Holy wherever Stars appear—above a humble manger, in a sheep-filled meadow, on a caravan across the desert sands… and here, atop a country hillside on a cold January morn.

O God, Thank you, Thank you, Thank you for the vastness of the night sky. Thank you for those glittering, streaking reminders that your Eternal Presence is always nearby for those who seek it, whether shepherds or magi, or an early rising woman.

We Sit.

We Look Up.

We Wait.

We Marvel.

 Amen.