good night
We sneak out on the porch like wild children, flicking lights off as we go, laughter rushing over our tongues like the crisp night air. We open our fists, letting down the day, making room to feel in our palms what can never be traced with our fingers.
I blink up at the inky black silhouettes of towering trees and, standing breathless, listen to a symphony of cicadas and birds twittering out the last of the day. I lean toward the screen, wishing for a moment I had thought to grab a blanket, something I could stretch over the grass, so I could feel the blades prickle my arms through the softness while I gasp at the stars. But once here, I can’t go back, can’t pull my eyes, my ears away.
“I see so many tonight,” I say, speaking of the stars, my voice softened by the holy view. “And planes.”
In the shadows, we grin, still tasting the humor in some silly quip from nights ago, something about fast-blinking, soaring, wingless “stars” hurtling through the darkness. We perch on rocking chairs, sinking slowly down, still lost together in the sky. For a while, we sit quiet and still, all our boundaries melting, just seeing, just hearing.
Unseen wide-throated birds trill, calling to each other in unique voices, in song. Word says that those full of the Spirit will sing to each other, will speak to each other in songs from the Spirit (Ephesians 5:18-19). Isn’t that what we’re doing, my Love and me, right now chasing glory in the dark? [bctt tweet=”Those full of the Spirit will speak to each other in songs.”]
“Look,” I say, as though he isn’t already, jutting my chin toward the treeline and the row of homes blocking our view–if our eyes could reach–of sweeping roads and still rushing cars, of life burning bright, even at night. “Over there it just glows.” It’s true: Beyond the dark profile of woods, the horizon glows a pearly white, as though somewhere ahead of us all is light. This I understand as yet another testimony. God is light (1 John 1:5) and God surrounds us (Psalm 139:5) and somewhere ahead is only God, only His glistening light. The place we’re going, everything is made of light. [bctt tweet=”This place we’re going, everything is made of light.”]
