LITTLE STARS
About a year ago, I had an experience with Oakley Ann that really struck me. It was beautiful, persepective-changing, and might I add, hilarious.
However, try as I might, I could not adequately express the lesson I had learned on paper. Like trying to fit a circle in a square-shaped hole, I was unable to make it work. Which made me really sad.
But, a year later, I can see why the words would not flow. Why it felt a little hollow. Why I couldn't stretch the message to fit the page.
I hadn't really learned it yet.
So, without further ado, let's transport ourselves back to the late summer of 2022, when Oakley ate something she wasn't supposed to. Shocker.
Well, not eat, per se. In the midst of the avocado being chopped, that little dash of yellow lightning managed to steal the pit and use it as a chew toy for a few seconds. That, coupled with the cookie she swiped right out of someone's hand, created the right conditions for the perfect storm.
Here is the synopsis of the night that followed:
Taking the dog out, over and over and over again.
Worrying she was going to die.
Massaging her gas-extended belly. (Yes, I am now aware of the beauty that is gas reliving medicine, but as you will recall, my knowledge was not then what it is now.)
On about our eightieth trip outside, and with a sleepless haze clouding my vision, I could not believe what I saw.
Our sweet little town does not cast much light pollution, and on most evenings, one can see quite the array of stars. It is gorgeous, and one of my favorite things about living under this big, open sky.
However, perhaps as a recompense for my current predicament, the Lord was putting on a show during this specific midnight hour.
Stars were everywhere. Everywhere. The large, shining ones that have the ability to be viewed almost every night were there, but scattered around them in clumps and groups were some of the smallest pinpricks of light I have ever seen. They covered the blackness, blanketing the entire scene witha glow, and allowing me to track the flash of a dog as she tore around our yard.
My gaze was continually drawn up in wonder at the beauty our Lord had created, and I couldn't help but parallel it to my life. My beautiful, star-filled life.
I knew that sentiment to be true back then, but my belief in it wavered. On the heels of a literary rejections, and moments from being on the cusp of a personal rejection, my life seemed to be lacking in the star department. At least the ones that others could see. The ones that I thought mattered the most.
Career. Love. Independence.
These were the momenuemntal life things others judged me on, correct? The high points that they could witness? The achievements I should be striving for?
Yes, and no. Yes, I do believe that these are goals to work towards. And yes, there was a chance that others might be worried about the life choices I had made. And warranted in their worry.
But no, those were not the only high points in my life. The stars that I had yet to find shining in my sky. I had a billion, trillion little ones, and they were painting a beautiful picture of the landscape below.
A family that had truly become my best friends.
Primary children that shaped me into a person so much more like Christ.
Trials that brought me to my knees, and to Him.
Church families that carried me when I felt I couldn't take one more step.
Confidence that despite the concerns of others and myself, I was on the right path.
Freedom to spend time with my grandmothers, who I adore.
Time to serve my family.
Opportunities to go out with the missionaries.
The growth period of becoming an author that I am really, really proud of.
Challenges that have shown me I can do really hard things.
Every moment spent with the dogs. Even the gross ones.
Hang-ups that have finally shown me Christ does not expect me to be perfect now. That although He wants to help me improve, He also loves me as I am.
The deepening of friendships.
The books. Oh, all the books I have consumed.
Learning new skills.
Accepting who I am, and learning to care for that person, flaws and all.
Laughter. So much laughter.
See? That's a lot of stars. That is a heaven's worth.
And sure, those around me may not be able to see the beauty on display. Or maybe they can. The people around me are incredibly perceptive 😉
But does it matter? Does it matter what others think? Am I really going to let my worry about the image I present to others determine my happiness?
No. Or, I'm going to try not to.
Because, my sky is gorgeous. It is full, it is brimming with light. I love it. I love it a lot, and a year later, I truly mean that. It sometimes takes a year of darkeness to show one how much light there really was, all along.
I love this life I've been given. It hasn't taken me anywhere near where I thought I would go, but it's mine. It's the world God created specially for me. It doesn't look like other's, and while in the last decade that would have frustrated me, I'm learning to be at peace with it. Our God is not a cookie cutter God. He creates for us all, individually.
So, here we are again, on the edge of another possible rejection. I am supposed to hear within the next little bit if my novel has been accepted or not. And although I am very on edge, I am simultaneously at peace. If it is selected, great. If not? That's great, too.
I know I'm on the right path, whether that leads to publishing or not. Whether that leads to marriage soon, or later. Whether that means major changes are coming up, or life can continue on as it is.
Whatever it means, I am very aware of the glory now hanging over my head. That has always been hanging over my head. The "little" stars are shining bright. Glowing so bright, in fact, I think everyone can see them.
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