Every night, when I come home, I pull into the driveway, turn off my car, and sit for just a minute. I close my eyes and let the keyed-up energy from work seep out of me. Then I look out my windshield, up above our clearing in the woods, and I see the stars. No, I see the entire Milky Way splashed across the heavens in glorious array. It is like a vast, jeweled ceiling put in place just for me, to dazzle me with its beauty.
Every night, this fills me with awe. Complete and utter wonder.
I pick up my things from the passenger seat, swing open my door, and step out into this wonder. I stand by my car, gazing up, my eyes searching, tracing, drinking in these stars to the very last drop of their glory. As I gaze, my spirit fills to overflowing within me, and I feel as if I might burst for the very fullness of my heart. Should I cry? Should I sing? Should I laugh? Should I dance? Should I remain in immobile silence?
Sometimes the stars call forth one response, sometimes another. Sometimes, two or three wriggle out of me together, and it cannot be helped.
Every night, when I come home, I look upon the stars. And every night, as they shine brightly on, they minister to my heart.