My husband’s parents have bought an old cabin and are in process of moving it a few miles down the road to the family farm. It’s a rustic-looking homeplace with a tin roof and deep porches, built around 1870 by a man who’d returned from fighting in the Civil War.

Last night, we went to look at the grassy spot where the cabin will rest. There were eleven of us, all walking around, imagining what the cabin will look like…where the driveway will come in and which way the porches will face. We could hear the creek gurgling nearby, and a V-shaped flock of geese flew over us.

“I like it out here,” my sister-in-law said. “It’s going to be really dark at night, so you can see the stars.”

I have to say, seeing stars is one of the best advantages of living out in the country. Our bedtime skies are pitch black, studded with brilliance. When we returned home, we stood in our own driveway, staring up at the night. We could see the white swirl of the Milky Way overhead. The kids all danced underneath the October sky, enjoying the cool air and display of lights.

How about you? Can you see the stars at night from where you live? Do you take the time to look up at them? A missionary, Jim Elliot, once noticed the stars and took the time to write down these words:

Oh, the fullness, pleasure, sheer excitement of knowing God on Earth! I care not if I never raise my voice again for Him, if only I may love Him, please Him. Mayhap in mercy He shall give me a host of children that I may lead them through the vast star fields to explore His delicacies whose finger ends set them to burning. But if not, if only I may see Him, touch His garments, smile into His eyes — ah then, not stars nor children shall matter, only Himself.

Jim Elliot lived from 1927-1956, dying at the hands of the Auca Indians in South America, the people group he was sent to serve. His wife, Elisabeth Elliot, went on to become a well-known writer. I’m thankful Mr. Elliot took the time to record his words because I thought about them last night as I watched our “host of children” enjoying the stars.

My two-year-old sang at the top of his lungs, “Jesus loves me! This I know! For the Bible tells me so!” This is all I can do as a parent — teach my children that yes, Jesus loves them. Nothing — nothing at all — gives me greater purpose.