Did you see the meteorite?  The flurry of news reports and commentaries about the meteorite that exploded over the Siberian landscape recently stirred a range of feelings in us.  Some marveled at the power of the heavens, some gasped at the power of physical law; some were awestruck, some were dispassionate observers, some are still cleaning up the mess it brought.  All of us, however, I'd be willing to say, were intrigued by the arrival of something, something very unusual and dazzling from beyond this world.  Because we all wonder about what or who is beyond us and because we all wonder why these things happen in such seemingly random ways, we all found food for thought in what happened.  The world unpacked itself in a way that, at least in most of our lifetimes, it had not before.
     But maybe that's the nature of our lives.  Set against a graph, a linear graph of an endless journey from A (birth) to B (death), life seems futile.  It starts, it runs, it ends.  Infused with curved lines, slopes and tangents that slice through a straight line, however, life seems anything but futile.  Yes, it's a journey that ends, but it's also a journey to an end.
     The meteorite is a window, a window into the uncontrollable, something that gets us to see that life is never predictable, that life is a set of surprises, that life is more than its end, that, again, it has an end, an end that is, in truth, a beginning.
     As Psalm 19 reminds us, the heavens are "telling the glory [and wonder] of God."
     It's all a matter of opening our eyes.