Boundary Waters | Wayfarer

As I was sorting a bunch of old family photographs, Taylor grabbed this one. She stared at it for a long moment before asking me what on earth was on her Grandpa Dean’s nose. Ha!

This photo was taken in the early to mid-1970s on the boundary waters between Minnesota and Canada. It’s where our family vacationed every year at a place called Camp Idlewood. Dad spent his two weeks of vacation fishing as much as he possibly could (notice my mother’s “How long are we going to be out here?” posture – not to mention her courageous attempt to mix stripes and polka-dots) and that meant his pasty white CPA’s skin was exposed to the sun’s rays for a lot longer than usual. A painfully sunburned nose was usually result.

I’m not sure who discovered the wonder cure. It was a plastic triangle that clipped onto the bridge of dad’s sunglasses and covered his nose, protecting it from the sun. My dad and both my grandfathers got one and wore them all day while they were out fishing. If you look closely you can even see the chic little red jewel that adorned the middle of it.

For some reason, the fad (fake jewel and all) never caught on. I can’t remember my dad wearing it for more than a summer or maybe two. BUT, if you want to look as stylin’ as my dad did back in the day then today is your lucky day, my friend, because you can still buy one on Amazon:

Warning! Amazon says that if you buy it you can't return it (shocking). — Warning! Amazon says that if you buy it you can’t return it (shocking).

He determines the number of the stars
and calls them each by name.
Psalm 147:4 (NIV)

I was a child of the Apollo missions. Born in 1966, I was a toddler when Apollo 11 landed man on the moon and came to age at a time when being an astronaut was top on every boy’s list of what he wanted to be when he grew up. In fact, the front page of the Des Moines Register from July 21, 1969 is framed and hangs in the hallway just outside my office.

Perhaps that’s why I’ve alway had a fascination with the stars. As a child I loved it each year when the family would vacation in the boundary waters of northern Minnesota far from the lights of the city. I would sit with friends on the end of the dock at night and stare up at more stars than I’d seen in my entire life, occasionally to the eery glow of the Northern Lights. Even last week as Wendy and I cruised the Caribbean we spent part of each evening out on the verandah looking up at the stars and marveling at immensity of God’s creation.

It became news last week that scientists have discovered a host of new planets, a handful of which they believe to have similar life-sustaining properties as our Earth. I thought about that this morning as I read the lyrics of Psalm 147 and the thought of our Creator God knowing each star by name. Whenever I contemplate the enormity of the expanding universe I find myself feeling very small and insignificant. It helps to remember that not only does God know all of the stars by name, but Jesus said even the number of hairs on our head are known (of course, in my case, God spends less mental energy on that number as time goes on!).

This morning I find my heart humming the words of a modern psalm: “God’s eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me.”