Walking out into the dark this morning, I was greeted with an incredibly clear sky, resplendent with stars. Right now, Venus and Jupiter are bright white and close together in the east. Orion appears more to the south with his unmistakable belt, formed from stars named Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka, lining-up vertically to the overall constellation which runs parallel to the horizon. His right foot is marked by Rigel, the brightest star in Orion and the one marking the bottom of the “T” which St. Therese of Lisieux once looked upon as the first letter of her name. Nearby, Lepus, the hare, waits…is he being hunted by Orion?

Twelve hours earlier, I was standing in the same place in our yard watching our grand daughter, Blair, run across two neighbor’s yards, shirtless and shoeless, loudly greeting us, falling and getting back up, determined to see her Nanny and Poppy. Her mom, carrying baby Marin, was a few steps behind the nearly three-year-old little fireball, laughing and encouraging her little runner all the way. No less bright in the sunshine than Jupiter or Venus at night, I smiled at the chaos of toddler-dom in Blair’s wavy, flowing hair, weaving trajectory, and wildly joyful face. She was her own day-lit constellation.

Earlier in the day, we enjoyed lunch with Sally’s mom, now in her mid-80s and navigating the glories and challenges of long life. We happened upon a reminiscence of a family trip during the 2012 Summer Olympics, one you’ll remember as being marked by Carly Rae Jepson’s unforgettable “Call Me Maybe,” lip-synced by the beloved stars of the American men’s and women’s swim teams. Pulling up photos, we laughed as we shared stories of the trip and the fancy dinner I hosted as celebration for a company win that I can’t even remember. How thirteen years flies, the faces in the photos change, and life carries us on.

A few hours before our lunch, we were in the backyard, drinking coffee, eating kolaches, throwing the football, and blowing bubbles with four of our grandchildren who had stayed the night with us. Their parents had joined us and the maelstrom of shoeless kiddos in their pajamas and endless wonder, questions, and energy enveloped us. I laughed as the 8-year-old Cooper crushed me in checkers and not even the 5th cup of coffee could help me keep up with the pace of all four.

Where does one go after such a day? Reflecting on the joys of our day with a couple of Emma Stone margaritas, Sally and I reveled in the memories of our 2012 family trip to Amelia Island, the gift of her mom’s sharp mind and memory, the proximity of our children and grandchildren, and the grand adventure of it all. Watching the quirky Four Weddings and a Funeral a bit later, I was reminded of the many gifts that pass unseen in the toil of our days and how frequently our own neurosis get in the way of the joys sitting right in front of us. Of course, love eventually finds all of us, even if we get in our own way a bit more than we’d like.

In addition to the stars this morning, I was greeted by Chapter 11 of St. Paul’s Letter to the Hebrews: “Faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen.” What is it we hope for and what are the things, despite the evidence all around us, we are not seeing?

There is a grand adventure happening and we’re right in the middle of it. The troubles that befall us, the people that besmirch us, the plagues that bedevil us, the struggles that beleaguer us, and the sorrows we bemoan are only part of the equation that is our becoming. There are also wonders that invite us, beauties that beguile us, loves that enrapture us, moments that capture us, and opportunities that enliven us.

Though I reflect on the evidence of things unseen today, I realize that I have seen much. I may lament the uncertainties but the evidence counters my doubt, the moments defy my discouragement, and the real joy standing right in front me challenges me to rise to the occasion of my own life.

Your life is a grand adventure and there are blank pages yet to be filled with the words, deeds, and moments that will echo across all the other pages of those living alongside you. The bright stars that are joy and peace and love mark the constellation that is our heaven on earth, and we get the chance to move within it every, single, day. It is the greatest of gifts and the most fitting way to give thanks for it, is to live it well – to live it fully and faithfully. And, if the things unseen persist in troubling you, just remember all the good that you have seen and know that faith and hope also are gifts.

Of course, we have to be willing to accept them.