As a young girl I was somewhat obsessed with the stars. I remember wondering if God was actually keeping us in a shoebox and those specks of light where the holes in the lid to let us breathe. Was there someone watching over us, storing us under his bed every night? Are we God's ant farm?
I grew up and my ideas about God and life changed. Sometimes I still feel like we live in the ant farm and the real world is glowing outside the lid, through those flecks of brightness in an empty sky. But other times, when I see the shafts of light spilling through the stained-glass windows, or the sun glistens on the ocean, I realize God isn't out there somewhere, poking holes in the lid, He's in here. He's in everything. He's the sound of rain outside late at night, the freshly fallen dew on the grass, the wingspan of a bird in flight.
But laying beneath a star laden sky, I feel so small in the greater scheme of things. With all that wonder and majesty in the universe, I feel like an insignificant girl trying to make it in a shoebox world.
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