Last night at midnight my daughter, Lucy, and I jumped into a frigid car and drove to the end of Windmill Point road so that we could look up into the clear night sky without light pollution. Windmill Point road terminates at the river’s edge. Our failure to stop would have plunged us headlong into the cold waters of the Rappahannock River. Fortunately, I stopped just in time.
Once stopped, I left the car running for the heater’s warmth, unbuckled my seatbelt, turned sideways in my seat, electronically rolled down my window, placed a throw pillow on the window ledge to protect my back, and leaned out as far as I could. Lucy did the same on her side. We looked up into the night sky eagerly awaiting sight of the Geminid meteor shower. And, we were not disappointed. We saw lights streak across the sky in long and short bursts. We contemplated the constellations we thought we saw – – neither of us being very sure. And we imagined what it must be like on other planets in other galaxies. We contemplated the likelihood that life exists in other places in the universe and whether we have been or are currently being visited by aliens from out there somewhere. And, how we sometimes feel like aliens in our own lives.
Once again, I told her about the moment I just knew I was a princess from another planet who had been left here on earth with this family of mine in order to appreciate how the other half lives. You know, all the hard labor and perspiration was designed to grow in me compassion for others so that I would be a fair and kind ruler. It was a hot summer afternoon on Koontz Lake, Indiana when I came to this realization. I was being forced, forced I say, at 10 years old to rake grass clippings for my dad’s compost pile in the Summer heat.
Surely, my true parents would come and rescue me soon. But, alas, they never did! This month’s theme is imagination. Last night Lucy and I indulged in flights of fancy about our place in the universe, and for those precious moments everything was right with the world – no COVID-19, no Trump, no businesses closing, no fellow citizens on the verge of losing their homes and starving. And, at a young age with delusions of grandeur, I indulged in daydreaming away my temporary physical discomfort. For all that ails us, American author, Richelle E. Goodrich, suggests that “a daily dose of daydreaming heals the heart, soothes the soul, and strengthens the imagination.” This month, maybe you can find time to let your imagination soar and to feel at peace.
Rev. Lee Anne
Phone: (780) 454-9797