The Nursery

“Then God made two great lights: the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night. He made the stars also.” Genesis 1:16

I’m looking up at a stellar nursery—a region in deep space where stars are born. Tonight, beneath the heavens, I dwell on that thought as I observe three shining points of light that form Orion’s Belt. Just below these brilliant stars lies a particular nebula and nursery called the Trapezium—a cluster of stars that illuminate and shape the multicolored aura surrounding it.

Always intrigued by this view through my binoculars, I can’t help but recall last season, when we had a few visitors in our backyard—three brave little fawns. For weeks, they would emerge from the brush and camp out in the middle of our yard, enjoying the serenity we once thought was ours alone. They would lie there, basking in the sunshine just a few yards from our back door. I think they liked the clover, too. We would stay inside so as not to scare them off, staring through the window like giddy children.

Every so often, their mother would appear at the edge of the woods and stomp her disapproval of their boldness. Then, as one, they would rise and run to her, vanishing into the backwoods I also called the nursery. Had I known at the time, I would have named them Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka—the names of the three brightest stars in Orion’s Belt.

Each year, a mother or two raises her young in our nursery. I see it as ours because we own the property, after all. But in truth, it belongs to our Lord—we are merely renting it for the time being. Nevertheless, the name is fitting, as so many babies emerge from it each year and grow into families that we watch prancing across the open acreage, sometimes gleaning fallen grain from the farmstead bordering our land. 

“Then the Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to tend and keep it.” Genesis 2:15

Decades ago, I would have seen them quite differently. But somewhere along the way, I had a major change of heart. I never used to appreciate such things. They were there merely for our consumption, perhaps. The grace and love that even animals have for each other were neither felt nor valued. The tender care of a mother for her young and the dangers they face beyond the nursery, mattered little to me.

Times have changed, indeed. Now I see that, because of love, she will protect them. But eventually, the choices they make are their own, and their world will grow much larger. I hope for a long and fruitful life for the three stars—wherever they are.