and then …
... between seven and eight o’clock tonight, as I descended the stair, I was struck. Out the window, just beyond the granary roof, a waxing crescent moon the color of soybeans in late September was slipping unceremoniously out of view. Whatever my first floor destination had been before I caught sight of this aberration in the blackened sky instantly lost importance. Like I said, I was struck, held in place there on the landing by a sliver of golden light in an otherwise sea of frozen black ink. A sliver of golden light hung right there above the lake, with a single bright twinkle above it. The twinkle was Venus.
I’ve heard the crescent moon called God’s fingernail. And the crescent moon appearing with a single star, such as I saw this night, is the famed symbol of Islam. Astronomers get excited when the moon and certain stars converge close enough to earth to be viewed with the naked eye. Of course, none of this occurred to me as I stood on the landing peering west. I didn’t know which planet twinkled above my waxing crescent and, to be honest, learning it was Venus mattered little. That’s because I was struck by the crescent alone. Struck by its color, its unexpectedness, its mirth…
Tonight’s crescent, you see, appeared like a wry smile or, perhaps, a wink. Yes, a wink! I imagined it was God, not an authoritarian God who presses a nail into the sky to make a point but a jovial God sending me a light-hearted reminder that even in darkness lies hope. My crescent was trailing some light, after all. Heavenly light; sunlight. And my crescent sent just a sliver of it my way before disappearing with a wink.
Our new year, which begins soon, has been designated the International Year of Astronomy by the International Astronomical Union and UNESCO. The hope is for ten million people to take their first telescopic view of the heavens during 2009. I laud the effort, especially since I am blessed with darker night skies than most of my friends; I see far more celestial bodies with the naked eye here than I ever did when living in the city. A telescope here wouldn’t be a bad investment.
Of course, a glimpse at heaven doesn’t require magnification. What it does require is imagination. And a willingness to pause on the landing when something magnificent slides across a cold sky unexpectedly. And honestly, who doesn’t enjoy being winked at?
These guys no longer lift their noses when farm dog runs to the fence barking. You know what they say? A good fence makes good neighbors!
