The Eagles were playing in my head this morning at 2:30 am. That I’d have a mental tune wedgie isn’t terribly unusual. Anyone who knows me knows I love music, and as a musician my life is accompanied by a nearly continuous internal soundtrack. This morning it was that memorable tag line from Seven Bridges Road—a cappella, of course, with Don Henley’s soaring lead wrapped in inimitable, haunting harmony—repeating itself over and over.

But why 2:30 am? In a word, stars. This weekend was prime time for viewing the Perseid meteor shower, and my wife and son wanted to see the show. We reclined in our chairs on the back porch under a nearly pitch black moonless sky and gazed up, letting our eyes adjust to the light, or lack thereof. We live right at the edge of a tiny town, and while we have a streetlight out front, our house blocks it pretty well, so we were in almost total darkness…except for the stars.

A ton of ’em. The Eagles were briefly overridden by Carl Sagan’s voice. “Billions and billions…” (Yes, I know he never used that phrase exactly. Hush. You’re interrupting the narrative.) As the tunes resumed the show began. Not much at first, but then, “Did you see that? Oh my… Wow!” Every few seconds we were treated to another bright streak of light high over our hill.

We watched for about an hour, the silence only broken by our brief exclamations of appreciation. Finally heading in for bed, we had enjoyed a simple pleasure we’d formerly missed amid the light noise of the big city: a beautiful display of God’s amazing handiwork…right here in small town North Carolina.