“My Lord, What a Morning!” came to my mind as I looked out on the morning sky early today. It seems that God has an expansive canvas and an infinite pallet, and every morning is a new masterpiece.
The sky, especially the night sky has always fascinated me, so I spent time on the deck with my telescope last week ogling the “Star of Bethlehem,” that rare alignment of Jupiter and Venus. What a sight! And a brilliant full moon, too. It was quite a week for heaven-gazing. Remember Frank Sinatra singing “Fly Me to the Moon”? If my neighbors had been listening, they would have heard me singing “Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars” while I was out enjoying the canopy of night.
Now moving from the expansiveness of the heavens to the confinement of a car . . . . Minus the radio and cell phones, a moving automobile is an ideal chamber for meaningful conversation. When our granddaughter Samantha was in elementary school, Wednesday afternoons became our time together. I picked her up after school, and we did everything from making Samantha Super Sundaes for snacks to art projects, to singing, but my favorite was the time spent in the car—undisturbed conversation.
One cloudy afternoon in traffic, I was telling Samantha tales of her great grandmother Nichols, who was one of my favorite people. She was fun and adventuresome, and I wanted Samantha to know a bit of her gene pool. I explained how her Granny Nichols talked about wanting to go to the moon. When Samantha heard that her grandmother would have been the first in line to buy a ticket (if it had been affordable) and we talked about what courage that would take, Samantha got that far away look in her eyes and became quiet. I knew better than to disturb her silence. Then she said, “Well, maybe God took her by to look at the moon on her way to heaven.” Oh, the faith and the undisturbed assurance of an eight-year old! That led to quite a discussion about the difference between Heaven and the heavens.
Well, they’re still not selling tickets for travel to the moon, and I don’t know if the moon or Jupiter or Mars will be visible on my way to heaven. I just know that one day my permanent address will be in God’s neighborhood, and I can only imagine His canvas, His colors, and His presence there. But until, I’ll keep singing along with Old Blue Eyes, but I’ll be singing to the One who will take me There—“Fill my heart with song and let me sing for ever more. You are all I long for, all I worship and adore . . . . ”