One perk about school being so far away from the city is that the night sky is relatively, just a tad bit, freer of light pollution. Looking up, you could satisfactorily make out Orion – the constellation that the perhaps less well-read me only learnt about quite recently. (gone are the days of just spending time after school in the national library pouring through non-fiction science books filled with pictures and attractive illustrations!)
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Now it will always hold a special significance in my heart. If I could materialise this it would surely go into my Box of Special Thingies. Essentially, an IKEA box i've lovingly filled with memories and little mementoes.
Back in December last year, on my first mission trip to Northern Thailand, I looked forward to the nights in the village as I remember the nights at Ribbon Vale house where I stood outside, head tilted as far back as anatomically possible, with my hands cupped around the sides of my eyes. Then, there was nothing but me and - hardly the sky - a vastness specked with stars of various sizes, brightness and colours.
I was filled with excitement to see this same sight closer to home. However, the first 3 nights were cold and cloudy with eminent rain (or rain) so no stars and I could remember my heart sinking a bit, with Ber and E sharing my sentiments. But as our van rolled along the last route back to the retreat home, lo and behold, the sky was clear! Ber swapped seats with me so I could sit by the window and look up too. With the seat down and my head pressed against the side of the car door, I watched the night sky as the van drove on.
When we got back to the retreat home, we excitedly unloaded all our barang. After the debrief Ber brings out the plastic chairs and arranged them on the sandy ground. We went back inside to wash up and have some mama cup noodles before heading outside tingling with excitement.
While comparatively less stunning than the sky in Margaret River in all honesty, it was still pretty amazing and got more so the longer you stared at it. By the time we got outside, the chairs which had been outside for some time were wet with condensation but we sat anyway. More accurately, we laid a few in a strait line and laid flat on it, like a makeshift lawn chair.
We identified Orion, which was clear and bright and unmistakable, and proceeded to identify the big and little dippers, and the bright polaris. The air got colder as the night passed but we were all trying to take in as much as we could – the last night. we walked to the other side of the house and looked up for a while, and a flash – a shooting star! I could've cried! Our reluctance to go back inside is indescribable. What I would give to enjoy this sight every night back home!
I guess as we long for different "everydays". Yet while doing so perhaps it is a reminder to appreciate our own too.
Needless to say I am already looking forward to returning to the quiet of village life should He open the doors again this December - waking up to devotion in the fresh morning air, with the occasional rooster crows, walking on the gravelly paths to the school where we have breakfast and playing simple ball games on the sandy ground.
But perhaps here, we could learn to be aware of the small lovely things too – the way the sun shines into our rooms at a particular time of the day, buying the same coffee before each lecture, walking round the half-lit track by yourself at 1am in the morning...
looking up at the west Singapore sky and getting a not-bad view of Orion.
Lyric from a Hillsongs' hit in the Wonder album floats into my mind in a slight cliché:
"If Creation sings your praises so will I"
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