Beneath the Stars

Every time I think of stars, I get all nostalgic (of course). Apparently nostalgia is what I do. Some thing comes to mind, but it's never just the thing...it's the predominant memory that goes with it.

The stars have always been big for me. They signify how big my God is, and how small I really am in comparison to the rest of His creation; yet, He loves me. They represent four years ago beside a river and the aftermath. They bring to mind camping trips last summer, lying in the middle of the road, feeling small compared to their bigness. And, more recently, they remind me of so little time ago, sleeping bags on grass and the rush of the ocean.

I don't know what this process is for. I don't know why it's so hard, or why I have such a difficult time explaining it. All I do know is that God doesn't test us and lead us through trials for the fun of it. We always come out with a character that is stronger and a heart that beats closer to the rhythm of His.

So I'm holding out. I don't know why, except for all the selfish reasons I've come up with. Maybe I'm crazy, and maybe I'm making the biggest mistake of my life. But I cannot pretend away this burning in my heart, just the same as I cannot imagine away His hand on me every time I look up into the shimmering specks of universe.