Out of the Woods

Have you ever tipped your head back and looked up at the stars?

I live in Cannon Beach. If you look it up, you’ll realize just how tiny it is, and how isolated. When the sky is clear and there’s no moon, it seems like you can see every star in existence. The night sky is littered with them. It looks like someone cut open a glow stick of prodigious proportion and flung the contents into space.

I was standing at whale park (the beach access with a big metal whale next to it) one night, and I was staring up at them (the stars) like I had on any other. It was one of those perfect Winter evenings when the town was dead, the air was still, and there was absolutely no moon. It was quiet all but for the motion of the sea, which I had grown accustomed to at that time. But something was different that night. As I stood all alone, staring up into oblivion, I realized just how small I was. I started to feel like I was falling up, as crazy as that sounds. I looked up into the sky and grew lost, as if I were a small child who had strayed too far into a deep cavern. The great expanse of sky opened up and reached for me with shadowed fingers to pull me into itself, to swallow me into nothing. The peaceful lull of the ocean soon became a roar in my heart, and I began to imagine just how much water the gravity if the moon was holding back. I could hear the rush of the waves teaming with such a force that I could not even begin to oppose. I was surrounded by undeniable strength and loneliness, and it made my spirit shy.

For a moment or two I stood there, frightened. There are no other words to describe it.

I wrote this awhile back on Microsoft Word. I sat down, typed, and saved it away for over a year:

  “We walk the earth with the mentality that what we see laid before our physical vision is all there is. We are consumed with this world and with this time. Our hearts yearn for the tangible things, the things that we can control and manipulate to fit our standard of comfort and normality. What we often forget is that just because circumstance can’t be predicted, or that there are things for which our minds are unprepared to comprehend or question, doesn’t mean our universe will start to unravel and slip away from us forever. Being small is not the issue; acknowledging that there is Someone who is bigger, is.”

And that’s what I had to remind myself of, during that brief period of being caught in abeyance by the dark silences of my mind. I remembered that I had been created, specifically, for a purpose, and that was to bring glory to, and have fellowship with, my Father. It didn’t matter that I was of inconsequential importance and size to myself.

God had breathed life into all that I beheld that night. And you know what? He loves me more than all of it.

As God let that truth sink in, I smiled. I usually underestimate how great the love of God is, mostly because I am constantly relating it to my own fickle temperament I call love. Once in awhile  I get it, though. God loves me, as strange as that might sound. He gave me a soul, a heart and a voice. And my God is bigger than anything I have ever met, seen, heard of, or talked to. And I am resting safely under His wings.

With that thought, I’m off to bed. Good night, world.

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2 thoughts on “Out of the Woods

  1. I’m a friend of Lisa’s and she showed this to me. It’s remarkable! I love the way you described the stars. . . I could so vividly imagine falling up. . . and especially how you applied it to how God loves us more than that. I’ve had those moments! So wonderful. I’m so thankful I was able to come across this.

  2. I’m glad this post encouraged you! : ) I was really hoping I wasn’t just addressing the air, but that someone would benefit from me writing about God’s goodness in my life. He is so good!

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