Thanks to my Rev Gal pals for introducing me to this poem:
This is the irrational season
When love blooms bright and wild.
Had Mary been filled with reason
There'd have been no room for the child.
- Madeleine L'Engle
I began to grasp some of the mystery Christ's light on one of those pitch black, moon-less nights. I was in a deep sleep when I was awakened by a tug on my sleeve. I opened one eye and saw little Maria standing there. She was 6 years old at the time and asked if we could go sit in the hot tub. It was 3 am and a school night, but for some reason I resisted my initial reaction to her request and said ‘yes.’ It happened to be one of those nights when the dark sky was filled with shooting stars, one right after the other. She listened very attentively while I explained what a shooting star was. She was silent for a long time and then quietly said, ‘I hate to tell you this, but you’re wrong.’ She went on to tell me that when a star falls out of the sky at night, it really is the light of God coming from heaven and being born in someone’s heart!