Wednesday in the Second Week of Lent
O Lord, your word is everlasting;
it stands firm in the heavens.
Psalm 119:89
I am forever conscious of the sky. I notice the quality of light in the morning, and like to sit by the east-facing window to watch the world unfold. I take note of the clouds during the day, and how the sun weaves its light in and around them. They might be wisps or puffer coats or gauzy layers splashed purple-orange by the evening sun. Or maybe the day is wrapped in fog, everyday shapes disguised with shimmering cloaks.
In the middle of the night I contemplate the landscape altered by the moon’s reflected light, or only know that it and other celestial bodies continue in their paths while they remain hidden from me. The heavens, populated with the stars beyond number and orbits we will never trace, separated from the waters by God in an act of creation, contain God’s word. Once spoken, never ceasing, firm in the firmament.
My footsteps remain on the earth. My wilderness journey embedded in the ground, in the dust out of which I am made. And always the sky covers me, God’s word a mantle, a comfort, a shelter, a promise.
