The satellite sighting information sheet claimed I could see the space station on Friday, August 4 at 8:51 p.m. for five minutes at 20 above NNW. Outside and ready, my inner spirit jumping with exclamation points, I watched the night sky. Before and beyond the predicted minutes I watched, but I missed the “sighting opportunity,” knowing that others were hosting a star party and giving high-fives over an event that I missed.
What I saw was the sky in its pinkish-orange pajamas, dark birds like shutting eyes above yawning clouds. All I saw was the moment between day and night, the miracle that happens every 24 hours. O God, your wonder takes my breath away. May I be attuned to such sightings every day. Let me catch a glimpse of at least one minute each day, and forgive me for missing the other 23 hours and 59 minutes.