Again, the stars. The sky was full of them when I first woke. This miracle that repeats itself daily has my attention. How could it not? I need only rise to witness it. It makes me wonder what else I may be missing when I am not paying attention. I cannot possibly pay attention to everything. Surely there are daily miracles unfolding everywhere and always.
The stars that had my full attention for a few minutes were gone an hour later. The rising sun offering enough light that it met them and is surpassing them. Their brilliance is no less, it is only that their light is now matched — a convergence of brightnesses.
When I was young, I admired my grandmother’s freckles. I traced constellations between them on her back as she lay on the pier in the summer sun. I imagined how tan she would be if only her freckles would grow together. I wished that my freckles would grow together too. Now I see that is what is happening in the sky. The stars are being joined by the light of the sun each morning, a mysterious hand tracing the lines between them, uniting them with light.
Now, the sky is lightened. The stars are no longer visible but I know that they are still there. Science tells me so but, even more convincingly, so does my heart. The light of the stars does not need to be visible for me to feel their presence.
My grandmother’s body does not need to be here for me to feel her presence either. She died years ago. Though she is no longer visible in my daily life, I feel her presence.
Today, I am thankful for all the people who have blessed my life. Some are no longer living. Some have not yet been born. Of those who are here now in this lifetime, most are not here, in my daily life. Yet I feel their presence. Like stars in the daytime sky, I need only to pay attention to feel them.
This is the daily miracle of my life — this connection to all life across all time and place. I need only to pay attention. And to give thanks.