Northern Lights Wonder

     NORTHERN LIGHTS WONDER

Auroras over Alaska. photo credit: Lisa Stossmeister

I have a treasured childhood memory of standing on a snowy path wrapped in a blanket well after my bedtime. My mom and sisters were out there with me in the dark.  We were all looking up and exclaiming in wonder. The vast Canadian sky was alight with green and pink waves of light.

The Northern Lights were dancing.

I remember sitting in a snow bank night after night waiting to see Haley’s Comet. The unforgettable moment when it was finally visible! Then figuring out that I could see it again if I lived to be ninety-one. 

This was something our mom often did - wake us up to make sure we didn’t miss a magical moment.

Our mom had this idea of intentional wonder that she tried to pass on to us. It’s a habit - to pause in your tracks and marvel at something unusual - something grand - something bigger than yourself.  It might be the colorful leaves in the fall, or huge snowflakes falling. It’s easy to start the habit.  You just start to look around you with curiosity. When you take the time to admire the wonder of a mountain view, or the first rose of summer unfolding, you catch sight of a perspective that is lost in the daily activities of living. Then, with a smile, you return to the tasks at hand.

Before you know it, you start to live with hope and expectancy.  You start to look for something to be thrilled about. You start to believe that no matter how dark the night, a time will come when there will be constellations or dancing aurora to admire.

If you have trained your eyes to look for it, your heart will find the miracle.  For just a moment, you will feel awe and amazement so huge that it gives you courage to see beyond your immediate troubles.

In our teens, we did not appreciate this characteristic so much.  We groaned, “Okay.  Nice.  We’ve seen them before.” Rolling over to go back to sleep and let our mom enjoy the aurora alone. 

But the idea was already set, and in our own motherhood days, I think we each woke our children up to see the Northern Lights or stopped the car to look at a rainbow.  We definitely taught them to catch snowflakes on their tongues! 

The other night, I was startled awake by a loud whisper from my 17-year-old, “Mom!  The Northern Lights are out!  Come on, you won’t want to miss this!” 

As I stood beside him on the cold porch, wrapped in a blanket, looking up at the sky filled with dancing greens and pinks - I smiled.  He thought this was clever payback for all the times I dragged him and his brothers out of bed on cold, clear nights.  But I am happy knowing that he, too, has learned to look up and see the marvelous things around him.