Sliver of Silver (Stargazing Siblings)

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And the moon was a sliver of silver

Like a shaving that fell on the floor of a carpenter’s shop

Every house must have it’s builder

And I awoke in the house of God

With the windows of morning and evening

Stretched from the sun across the sky north to south

On my way to early meeting

I heard the rocks crying out

~Rich Mullins

I love that song. It’s very possibly one of my favorite songs. Rich Mullins wasn’t a normal person. I don’t think he ever had his feet on the ground; he seemed to leave as fast as he came. But he sure did leave us with so much hope and grace before he went. He lived a life alive, saw God in everything. I want to have a soul like that.

Tonight, I also saw the moon. It wasn’t a sliver of silver. It was a beautiful white marble, sliced into what looked like monochrome stained glass window panes by the tree branches. I saw the moon from my yard. Tonight, I felt like my feet weren’t totally on the ground; I felt my something in my soul that I don’t always feel, and I decided against my better judgment to follow that urge.

I laid a blanket out on the lawn, and wrangled half my family to come and lie out on the soft grass, and stare up at the stars with me.

You see, I used to be afraid of the dark. I used to hate being alone in a dark room, or having to walk across a pitch-black yard, where sinister figures could emerge from a thousand different shadows. But something has changed, or is changing. I’m learning to love the nighttime.

I’ve learned that when the day is harsh and relentless, and the sun shines down ceaselessly, the night is alluring and subtle, enticing me in gently. During the day, I shield myself from the heat of the noonday sun. At night, I look at the sky, and the sky stares back with a thousand silver eyes, neither unbearable or repulsive, but simply pensive, curious. They’ve been up there looking down ions longer than I’ve been down here looking up.

So I gathered my family together for a reverent moment. My two sisters and I stargazed pensively for a long period of time (and my Mom for a short bit), only occasionally to break the silence with a remark of awed wonder.

Actually, that’s completely not true. I’m making it sound somber and solemn. It wasn’t. It was about as irreverent and silly as siblings could get. Maybe stargazing releases the joy inside people, because for about an hour straight, we stared up at the stars, and made a bunch of ridiculous jokes that only we would get, and laughed for a long time. (We even brought Kelsey along, but that was short-lived, because she squirms and wiggles and perks her nose up at all the nightly noises, like all good dogs should do.)

We talked about satellites in the sky, and names for our family house (one of the top picks was “starlight gables”, which was meant to be an allusion to the L.M. Montgomery book, but sounds rather like a retirement home to me), and clouds that look like rottweilers, and driving the truck up to the top of the mountain tomorrow night to watch the stars, because you can see them better up there above the city lights. We made a great memory.

Sometimes, I’m afraid that life will slip by too fast, and then it’ll be too late to enshrine those beautiful memories. It’s why I want to experience life fully aware, and fully awake.

I’m wide awake

I’m wide awake

I’m wide awake

I’m not sleeping

~Bono

As a side note to this, I’m now sure the neighbors think we’re certified. Well, it’s about time; don’t know what took them so long.

Stay awake and aware friends.

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