I Almost Missed It

by Audrey on July 1st, 2013

Special opportunities with our children happen in the everyday moments of family life. They don't shout at you. They don't say "HEY! Will you notice this special moment?!" No, they mostly whisper - they just happen - and if our hearts are far away from our children, we miss them.  We must be drawn to them.  We need God's help to be all there in our homes - not wishing for some other moment somewhere else.  Not wishing to always be filling our days with everything and everyone outside of our homes.  Life happens at home - in the everyday moments with our children.  Hearing their questions, really looking into their faces, speaking with them - not just shouting out instructions.  Draw near to your child's heart. Sit down.  Put the phone away.  Turn off notifications.  Don't miss the moments . . . I know what I'm talking about because . . .

Several years ago . . .

I almost missed it. See, I was tired and ready to call it a night.  I had cleaned up after dinner, had done the usual evening chores, and then I helped my high school son with his final research paper for the semester.  We were back and forth, back and forth until the final draft. It was getting so late and like I said, I was tired and ready to call it a night.
I had forgotten that this was also the night of meteor shower.  Oh, I had been told, reminded, encouraged, and begged to watch it.  But I had so much to do and for some reason, the meteor shower didn’t seem high enough on my priority list.
My daughter was home from college for Christmas break and so, while my son and I were working, she and my youngest child went out to watch.  I had no sense of time that night so I didn’t have a clue as to when they went.   I heard them but really they were background noise.
Somehow as the evening progressed, people disappeared and went to bed.  Everyone, that is, except me.
Long after I had finished going through the paper and given him final instructions, I was working on other things at my computer.  I hadn’t noticed that my youngest child had obviously slipped out of bed and had plopped his blanket and pillow on the floor next to me.  It seemed strange to me that I had missed his coming into the living room where I was working.  But he said something, something like, “Mom, will you go out with me and let’s watch the stars?”
“I thought you did that with your sister,” was my mumbled, not-even-looking-at-him or making-a-comment-as-to-why-he-was-not-in-bed reply.
“Well, I did but she went to bed and I want to watch them with you.”
“I don’t know. I’m tired and it’s so cold outside – haven’t you seen enough shooting stars for one night?”
“The peak will be between 2 and 4 in the morning.  I really want to see the peak,” he said.
“What about your dad?  Doesn’t he want to go?”
“He already did, he was out there for awhile but he went to bed.”
“We’ll see.”  I was not making any commitments.  I had been out in the middle of the night other times with my children looking at meteor showers but this time it was so cold and he had been out there already with his dad and his sister.  Why wasn’t that enough?  Why did he want to see them with me?
I told him I would think about it.  He waited and waited lying on his blankets on the floor by my feet.  Finally, I finished my work and looked at him – this boy of mine – and I thought he was asleep. 
I couldn’t just leave him there on the living room floor and go to bed.  I glanced at the clock, almost one in the morning.
I whispered to my sleeping boy, “Do you still want to go outside?” 
He wasn’t asleep. He popped up and said, “I was waiting for you - are you ready now?”
“I’m ready.”  
I put on my coat, my slippers, my gloves.  He said we’d need more blankets and flashlights.  We had to walk out pretty close to the street to get a good view of the sky. 
It was cold.  When we got to the spot he chose, he got to work laying out the blankets and told me where to sit.  He brought pillows and then instructed me to lie down.  “Your neck will hurt if you don’t,” he said.
So there we were, lying on our backs on top of blankets and under blankets staring at the sky.  We were joined by one of our dogs and one of our cats.
We waited for a while until finally, “There’s one!”  Seemed like it might be a long night.
About 20 minutes and maybe 3 meteors later, I was shivering.  “I have to have more clothes,” I announced.
So up we got – walked back to the house with dog and cat following. I layered myself in clothes for a snowstorm.  I made hot chocolate.  My son and I discussed current events in the kitchen at 2 in the morning.
We carried our steaming cups to the front door and out of the house.  Dog and cat were waiting for us – somehow they knew the show wasn’t over.  We walked back to our blankets, finished our hot chocolate, and once again lay next to each other as we waited for the peak of the shower.
We looked up – “There’s one!  There’s one!  Did you see that one?’

Then the sky was quiet for a while.  But it didn’t matter.  We talked about creation – in fact, we rehearsed the first 2 chapters of Genesis.  “He made the greater light to govern the day and the lesser light to govern the night.  He made the stars also.”
There’s one!

My son said,  “I just don’t get why Adam and Even disobeyed God.  They had everything.  Why weren’t they happy with everything?  Why did they want more?”
There’s one!

”What are shooting stars anyway?  I mean I know they are meteors but how does that work?  Are they really falling from the sky?”  
There’s one.
Doesn’t the Bible say that God will shake the heavens?  When?”
There’s one!  Did you see that one?

“I wonder what the sky will look like when Jesus comes back.  And how exactly will we meet Him in the sky?  And how will the graves open up?  What if He came tonight?” 
There’s one!

So many questions.  So much to talk about.  And we did.  I don’t think this conversation would have taken place the next day.
The wind started picking up and getting a little noisy. 
Hey look – there’s . . . then . . .

We saw this meteor break up in two – blue and yellow and orange streaks – Wow!  I think it was God’s grand finale for our night.
We were both quiet for a while.  Then . . .
“Are you glad you came out Mom?”
“Yes . . . I’m glad.”
We stared at the sky a little longer until we were both ready to go in.  At the same time.
Gathering our stuff, we trudged back to the house in silence.  A breeze was blowing, dog and cat followed.
It was so cool.
I smiled at my son.  I thanked my God.  And to think I almost missed it.

Posted in not categorized    Tagged with no tags


Annmarie - August 6th, 2013 at 8:09 PM
Awesome :')

Leave a Comment


follow on