Ozark Star Gazing

by Dale Grubaugh

I think I was about five years old at the time.

I was lying in the bed of my Uncle Jones’ pickup truck and we were fox hunting.

Uncle Jones often took my cousin Danny and I with him on these outings but this night was special.

As Danny and I lay there watching the sky, Uncle Jones took the time to identify what constellations he knew.

He showed us the Big Dipper, Little Dipper, and Orion’s Belt. He pointed out the North Star and the Milky Way.

That night was special because my uncle took the time to teach us. I was so excited to learn what he knew.

He was my hero.

Uncle Jones has long since passed away but those stars haven’t. The constellations show up every night — for me a constant reminder of a great man and a special time.

I don’t take much time to look at the stars anymore and it’s sad. Life is busy and it seems like everything just moves too fast.

But, you know what? The stars move at the same pace they did 45 years ago — or a thousand years ago for that matter. They’re not in any hurry, so why am I?

Back when I was a kid, stargazing filled me with wonder and amazement. Nowadays, it can make me feel small and insignificant.

The stars may make you feel the same way. Maybe that’s why we don't take the time to look at them anymore.

My friend Thomas lives up in the Kansas City area and he told me an interesting story:

Thomas took his two young boys with him to visit family in Shannon County, Missouri, back in February.

They arrived after dark. As they got out of the car, his nine-year-old son Noah asked “Daddy, what’s that?”

“What is what?” said Thomas.

“That!” Noah was looking up and Thomas asked him, “You mean the stars?”

Noah had never seen the stars!

He had lived his life under the canopy of city lights — lights that hid from him one of life’s greatest marvels.

The Bible tells us that the earth is full of God’s glory and the heavens declare his handiwork.

The apostle Paul said that what can be known of God can be seen in His creation.

But, just like Noah, I miss a lot about God, blinded by my own accomplishments and the glitter of man’s makin’s.

Sometimes clouds hide the stars. Sometimes the stars are hidden by our own lights.

But when the clouds pass — or we get out from under the canopy of those man-made lights — there they are.

Where the stars always were. Where the stars always are.

’Till next month.

Elias Tucker

April 19, 2009