Turn the Lights On

I can’t decide when is my favourite time of day, sunrise or sunset. When I am awed by the magnificence of a sunrise, I am certain that I love the awakening of each day most of all. Then I sit at the end of the day, watching the hues and colours of the setting sun, merging into evening, and think how amazing it is, and feel sure it really is the best part of the day!
This morning I walked along the beach at first light, saw the sun come up over the horizon. It was special watching aspects of the reef slowly become visible, and then defined in the early morning rays. A pied kingfisher was noisily searching for his breakfast. I was amazed that all the fish below him hadn’t taken to the shelter of the rocks with the racket he was making.
On the seaward side of the reef a far more silent tern was challenging the waves as he searched the rock pools for morsels. The little reef fish don’t come out early on winter mornings, preferring to lie in in the warmth of their rocky dormitories. Only the lizard-like mudslingers abound, moving in short, sharp flashes through the water, except when they think you may be a predator, then they move with alacrity and disappear. Even the crabs are tardy these cooler mornings, and the rocks are noticeably still without their clandestine scurryings among the crevices.
I saw the first whale of the season last week, so I am constantly searching for the rest of the contingent, impatient for their arrival, as are all of us who live here. This is the spawning ground of the Southern Right Whales, and from now until November they entertain us with their fabulous displays and breeches which displace enormous sprays of water, visible for miles.
Who can deny the existence of a creator God when faced each day with such overwhelming evidence of His grandeur. Seeing the order of things, which somehow in this remote spot seem magnified as we are so much closer to the natural scheme of things, it is hard to accept theories of big bangs and evolution. A cataclysmic explosion resulted in such carefully calculated interdependence and order? Not possible to my way of thinking.
Then there are the evenings. The part I love most is right as the sun goes down, the first star, Osiris appears in the west. It is shortly followed by the two pointers of the Southern Cross. As I watch, one by one the stars come on. Each circuit I make with my eyes finds another, and another, and another, all twinkling with merriment and delight. I fancy God Himself turning on these lights He created, but then I think “No, He’s probably delegated that chore to the angels, knowing how much fun they must have doing it.” Can you imagine it? Hundreds of angels being let loose in Heaven’s corridors, competing with each other to get their section lit, laughing and joking as they go, the stars joining in with singing and flickering, happy light.
If you should blink, or go off to do something at any part of this concert, you will come back to find a sight so awe inspiring that it stops you in mid-step. It is done, the sky is lit, the Milky Way dances across the sky from the cross to the plough. Scorpio starts the night upside down in the east, and rights himself when he reaches the west. The Southern Cross moves on its invisible axis, faithfully pointing out the South Pole, no matter where it is.
My heart fills with wonder, and I have no choice but to cry out: “My God, Thou truly are great!”

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