Counting Sheep Faces

I couldn’t sleep.  I was hot.  I was cold.  I was awake.  Fortunately for me, quality late night television was aware of this, and afforded me several options.

I passed on the many thoughtful “gift” offers being shared at that hour, skipped quickly past the show about the men who make scary motorcycles causing me to obsess about whether I locked the doors, could not click fast enough past the sci-fi channel, or the animals who eat other animals documentary. I was getting idiot cranky.

I surfed on.  Then, I found her.  The nasal high pitched frosted haired sweatered grandmother was recounting the riveting story of the potato she found that looked like Jay Leno.  (So fortunate that the Leno show is not only shown one time each night, but is also rebroadcast for those of us able to miss it the first time.)  As the details of the narrative spilled out, I couldn’t help but think, “Now why don’t astonishing things like that happen to me?”

Settling there to ruminate, I remembered the national scandal of the Bongo Java “Nun-bun”. A cinnamon bun unassumingly went into the oven an ontological breakfast snack, and exited it an iconic imago Mother Theresa.  Once again, not something that happened to me, but, it DID happen near me, and someone I know said someone they knew saw it. 

Earlier in the day at a meeting I noticed a face in the knots in the table grain. It was upside down, and neither famous nor necessarily miraculous.  A pair of boots I was trying on had two rivets over a strap, looking like hollow eyes with a wide grin.  Stars, leaves on the ground, puddles with stones, and finger prints on the window all turned themselves up or around somehow to resemble a face.  No Nun-Buns, but faintly anthropologically entertaining.

Tonight I watched as two of the 33 trapped men came out of the mine in Chile. The cameras all jockeyed to see their faces as they exited their vein of earth. I’ll bet the wives and children who saw them felt that something astonishing and miraculous was happening to them. I was glad to watch through the glass box on my table.

We talked about the new heavens and new earth in our Bible study this evening.  I thought of the recent deaths in our community, and wondered what the Face looked like that greeted them and welcomed them home. It would be astonishing.  I’m sure of it.

I was tired enough to turn over, and fluff my pillow then, and as I reached up to pull down my eye visor I saw the face of my beloved. Even with his eyes closed, I saw his blue eyes, and the way he has been looking at me lately, and realized, astonishing things do happen to me.  Every night, and every morning, I see his face. 32 years of that counts as something pretty miraculous.

Thank you Lord. Good night.