We were sitting in the chill of the still-cool spring evenings. Talking about church, and kids, and the work of life. The stars were playing peek-a-boo through the clouds but faces clear and bright. My thoughts, preoccupied…on grown up things. The mood, slightly sorrowful…thinking about saying goodbye to things, to people we love…
That’s when I saw him.
He hovered just right of my vision field. The sudden flash of his light commanding my attention.
Not a falling star, no.
The fireflies are back.
I have watched, and waited…but the last several nights distractions called to me. Now I look out over the meadow and see their joyful lights. Hidden in the trees and shrubs. Playfully skitting about the grasses…
Did you see? I ask excitedly.
The sorrow of goodbyes, forgotten. Replaced with childish joy. The coming of the fireflies always marks the beginning of summer for me.
Survey the great oak with living Christmas lights.
And it makes me think of Jesus. And the Festival of Lights. Is this what He saw when He looked out over the campsites, each with their own lantern swinging in the breeze.
“I am the light of the world,” He declares.
I look at the beauty in the trees.
And I believe Him.