It Was A Starry Night...

It doesn't get much "cooler" than this outfit... that's right... =)

Alas... hot chocolate, not coffee this time...

The meteor-gazing troupe... blankets wrapped, hot chocolate ready...

Trying to use the telescope that didn't work (even after Jeff pointed it in the right direction - i.e. not at the ground)... =)

Trying to get a better view... Jeff climbed aboard the CVE school bus...

... when the meteor shower slammed into Earth, killing thousands of people, spreading chaos across the globe and a shivering fear of the unknown into the hearts of the bravest. There were only four people who could handle this job, and it was time to head into the "great beyond" of outer-space to drill a hole into one of the largest meteors in the history of humankind, detonating a bomb deep inside to break apart the meteor so that the pieces could avoid crashing into Earth's...

wait. wrong story. wrong setting. must have seen that in the gas station. rewind, start again.

... when Carissa, Jeff, Joel and I headed out into the "great beyond" - which amazingly enough is out back of the kitchen, next to the corn field (who knew?) - to watch the meteor shower on Thursday night... and incidentally to freeze to death.

Dressed in at least four layers (if you were smart and a woman), or only one layer (if you were not so smart and a man), the four of us bundled our chairs, blankets, hot chocolate, pretzels, and coffee mugs (please notice we have all the essentials here) outside to sit under a dazzling display, watching the "shooting stars" fill the night sky, and chatting about casual topics such as... dying from being hit by a meteor.

"What would you do if one of those was headed toward you?"
"Run."
"Would you run? Or just sit there and let it come... since odds are that you would be killed anyway?"
"I feel like... I would probably run."

Having bragged that I was nice and toasty warm in my four layers of clothing, it was rather dismaying to find that suddenly I could not feel my feet. Or the tip of my nose. Or my hands. Or my...

Definitely time for a warm-up. Carissa had filled one of the gallon containers with hot chocolate, and as we sipped (our chocolate cooling very, very quickly in the chilly air) from our mugs, listening to the shush of tires on the highway's pavement back behind the orphanage grounds, feeling the wind wrap its icy fingers across your ears and lips, breathing in the warm breath of chocolate steam, and watching the fiery tails of burning stars drift across the sky... who could help waxing philosophical?

"It makes you feel really small, doesn't it?" asked Joel.

Indeed. Small and tiny and ever-so-thankful that there is Someone else in total control. Here we sit beneath a sky filled with light... millions and millions of stars and particles that we haven't even discovered, and yet our Father in heaven knows every one.

Cool.

Which it literally was... and as we finally headed inside after braving the cold air for almost two hours, I felt so happy. This is the same sky that my family and friends look up at in Kansas, that my friend sees stretching across the horizon in Slovakia, and that my Grandpa looks down on from up above.

Small, insignificant, and yet connected in some indefinable way with every other person who can sit outside and wish upon a falling star...