I have always been fascinated by astronomy. I could gaze at the sky for hours (or until my neck begins to cramp) hoping to catch the brief greenish hue of a sunset, searching for a twinkling star, or smiling back at the man in the moon. Recently there seems to have been quite a few occurrences of celestial phenomena, or at least that is my impression due to the increasing number of them showing up on my social feeds! But I always take note of them…hoping to catch a glimpse of whichever planet will be aligned with another, or the rare color of the moon during a particular phase. However, without fail, the conditions never seem to be quite right for me to witness these events, often leaving me feeling sad and like I missed out on something (cue FOMOOOS…fear of missing out on outer space;)!

Last week I was vacationing in the northern woods of Wisconsin with my family and brought with me the hope of seeing the spectacular sights of the Peresid meteor shower. According to one source, “on the nights of August 12 & 13, 1,000 meteors will slam into Earth at a speed of 150 per hour, lighting up the night sky like fire.” After a quick calculation, I figured that would mean approximately 2 meteors per minute would streak across the sky (#math #lol). SURELY if I looked up for at least 5 minutes I would see at least one or two of them…right?

Armed with that information, I decided that I would venture outside after midnight on August 12th…the earliest time that they were supposed to become visible. Our lakeside cabin was in a perfect area where there was no light to be seen other than the stars. We were surrounded by trees, but there were enough pockets of sky that I didn’t foresee it being a problem. I decided not to set an alarm, but instead trusted that my body would wake me up naturally for this spectacular event. Right on cue, I woke up at 12:08 am and quietly walked out onto the large wooden front porch. The night sky was clear, and the stars shone brightly, beckoning my gaze upward. I allowed my eyes to focus and stood my ground, waiting for movement to catch my eye.

The childlike excitement quickly waned, and it didn’t take long for doubt to creep into my mind (we’re talking less than 30 seconds). The conviction I had carried with me for days suddenly disappeared. Why wasn’t I seeing anything yet? Was it going to be a faint line or a bold one? Wait, did I just see something or is that my mind playing tricks on me? Then my neck started to ache, so I placed my hands behind my head to support it. Ok…surely now I will see something. Should I sit down in the chair to make it easier on my neck? I shined my phone flashlight at the Adirondack chair and immediately saw spider webs. Nope, definitely not sitting there and risking creepy-crawlies all over me. Guess I’ll have to keep standing.

By now a few minutes had passed, and not only had I not seen a meteor, but I had only actually been focusing on the sky for mere seconds of that time. WHY? I had been thinking about and planning for this moment for days. So, I tried a different approach. I started praying. God, I really really would love to see a meteor. I trust in You and believe that if I ask something of You in faith that You will provide for me. So please can I see a meteor, it would make me very happy and…..

At that very moment, I heard a cracking noise from among the dark tree line that interrupted my prayer. It’s nothing...I said to myself as I looked upward again. Just an acorn falling I’m sure. Then another cracking, causing me to stare intently into the woods, hair starting to stand up on my already sore neck. Shoot, what could that be? How can I relax and look up at the sky when something might be in there? I processed some quick logic that I was mostly protected on the elevated porch with a railing all the way around. Surely if something were to be lurking I would sense it long before it would get to me? But it was too late. Enough fear had crept into my thoughts that I was no longer able to continue my prayer OR my search among the stars. I quickly turned to go back into the house, but as I did I heard a voice in my head say “you are scared of what you cannot see”. I felt it was coming from God and knew that there was more I was meant to understand, but it was late and I was tired, so I went inside feeling defeated, and fell back asleep.

I have since had time to reflect on what the experience was meant to show me. So often in my life I allow fear to take over and to steer me away from what I truly want in life. I may begin with such conviction and passion for something I know God is leading me towards, but a simple “cracking sound” from the darkness can rock my boat of confidence. Sometimes it just slows my progress down, but more often it knocks me completely out of my boat, causing me to flail around just to keep my head above water, praying God will reach his powerful hand down and pull me up like Simon from the Sea of Galilee. Why does fear do this to us? How can we have such faith but yet are so easily “rocked” when an unseen fear enters our thoughts. The unseen CAN be scary, yes, but why do we let it rob us of our purpose, and our joy so easily?

These are the questions I am exploring. These are the lessons I know God is trying to teach me as I continue to strive for peace and to fulfill His will for my life. On that night in the northern woods I wasn’t just searching the stars, I was searching my soul, and God was there with me. A life lived in fear is no life at all, and I want more than that. I want joy. I want trust. I want peace. I want to find comfort sitting in the silence waiting for the bright shining meteor, no matter what tries to steer me off course. After all, there is nothing to fear but fear itself.