One evening, feeling anxious and longing for solitude, I stepped out into a quiet October night and walked to the towering pine tree in my front yard. Slumping down onto the cool ground, I pulled my legs close for warmth. Overhead, the sky stretched wide like a dark blue umbrella, as sounds of the night swirled around me.
The past few months had been filled with unspeakable sadness. People I loved were in serious trouble. Many days found me unable to stop crying. Some days I found myself bargaining with God. If you’ll fix this, God, I’ll never ask for another thing.
But it appeared that the heavens were brass.
I’m not sure what I expected on this particular night, but as I sat there, an urgency consumed me. I had to know that God was still out there, listening. I felt I could not go on another day without some kind of sign.
Where are You, Lord? I said, my words coming out in desperate sobs. Please! I need to know you are with me, in all of this turmoil and grief. I need to know that you hear me. Can you hear me, God?
My frantic plea floated across the lawn and faded into the night as I waited, anxious for a sign. A bird singing. A wind-chime catching the breeze. Something indicating that God had heard me.
But there was only silence of the deepest kind.
With a heavy heart, I leaned back against the trunk of the pine and closed my eyes, letting the tears run down my face and onto the ground. I don’t remember how long I sat there, but I will never forget what happened next.
When I opened my eyes, there, suspended in the blue heavens directly in front of me, framed perfectly between the branches of a neighbor's tree, was what appeared to be the biggest diamond I have ever seen.
An enthusiastic observer of the heavenly bodies, I knew immediately that it was the magnificent Venus. I’d seen Venus many times before and it’s never failed to thrill me. Though it’s often called the morning and evening “star,” Venus is not a star at all. Venus is a planet—the most brilliant planet in the solar system; so brilliant it can often be seen in daylight hours.
Had I been sitting a foot to the left or to the right, I would have missed it altogether, but there it was—Venus, flickering and sparkling in a stunning display of colors. Its light entered my grief and took my breath away.
I knew it was God’s personal gift to me on this evening, because, for the first time, in a long time, I felt Him there, filling the vast space around me. And I sensed that He was reassuring one of his despondent children: I am here, dear child. Morning and evening, I will always be here.
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Photo of Venus; source unknown.
This post is part of the "Spiritual Sunday" collection, hosted by Ginger and Charlotte, and the "Tuesdays Unwrapped" crowd, hosted by Emily.
A version of this story appears in the book, Chicken Soup for the Soul: Devotional Stories for Tough Times.