Season’s Delights: Meteor Shower (Light Come Down)


We wait out on the porch—me in my winter coat and bare feet, he wrapped in the fleece blanket we keep thrown across the couch. I sit on the step and the cold of the concrete seeps through the thin material of my pajamas. I am not dressed for the occasion—we didn’t plan it this way. But when I take the dogs out for the night and see two balls of white fire shoot through the night sky, I remember the meteor shower and run in to get him. He’s a good man and he humors his wife’s romantic notions but he has a cold and is tired so he only waits long enough to see two Geminids slide past Orion.

“Go on back in, honey,” I say. “I’m going to watch a little longer.”

How often does one get the opportunity to watch light rain down?

So I sit alone in the cold and look up at a glitter strewn sky and think about Christmas. And I wonder how the night sky looked on that holy night so long ago. As the poem says, she bled on straw and Light came down through her womb and I ponder what we don’t know about that night—I remember the feeling of holding my first child after the pain of birth and I wonder at how her birth pangs didn’t split this world wide open.

How can we be so blind? How can I miss Christmas this way?

The days keep rushing by and I can’t seem to catch my breath and there are so many things to do…so many goings on. My heart can’t seem to abide and I think longingly of the gift of Christmas that was given to me in July—when both of my boys were hospitalized suddenly and fear and faith mingled in a new way.

I look up. The sky seems content to stay in place … no more Geminids. Just this ocean of shimmer. And peace. I scoop it up in handfuls and heartfuls and whisper thanks through chattering teeth.

And just when I get up to find the warmth of the hearth, a slow-burning flash surfs through those star-waves. I stand in awe of Christmas.

Light come down.

Comments

  1. amyscanderson says

    Smiling to picture you seeing Light come down. This time of year reminds me most of the aspect of eternity where we escape time. That will be wonderful.

  2. says

    Just think–if you’d been inside, you would’ve missed it. And the light would have come down anyway.

    And thanks for sharing my spiritual journey through your encouraging comments. They always brighten me up.

  3. Hazel Moon says

    As kids we used to find the darkest area and watch for falling stars. You were priviledged to see an entire show !!

  4. soulstops says

    Oh, so glad you were able to catch the beauty…I still wonder at what it was like for Mary…always a delight to read your words, Laura 🙂

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *