Where Does the Light Go When We Can’t See It?
Finding grace in the veiled places of our journey.
There’s a quiet kind of beauty in the dark. Not the absence of light, but the presence of mystery, the kind that invites me to pause, to wonder, to listen.
There is a dark reflection nebula in our sky with a unique name, “vdB 31,” and it is one of those places in the sky that speaks softly yet profoundly. A reflection nebula nestled in the constellation Camelopardalis (say that three times real fast!). It’s not a bright beacon of brilliance that is easy to see like Orion or Andromeda. Instead, it’s a whisper in the cosmic wilderness, a cloud of dust illuminated by starlight, barely visible unless you know where to look.
I photographed vdB 31 on a night when the Georgia sky felt especially still. The last few weeks have been amazing for night sky viewing, and I have been able to capture a wealth of clean, crisp data. The stars have been bright, and this faint nebula emerged from the shadows like a memory long buried. It reminded me of something sacred: that dust is not the end of the story.
Scripture tells us we were formed from dust, and to dust we shall return. But in between, there is light. There is breath. There is a journey.
vdB 31 doesn’t shine on its own. It reflects. It receives. It bears witness to a nearby star and becomes beautiful because of it. Isn’t that what we’re called to do? To reflect the light of Christ in the midst of our own dust and clouds?
There are seasons when life feels obscured, when grief, confusion, or weariness settle like cosmic fog. But even then, something holy stirs in the shadows. God is not absent in the dark. He is present in the dust. He is near in the cloud. And sometimes, the most profound revelations come not in clarity, but in quiet reflection.
vdB 31 reminds me that the journey isn’t always bright. But it is always sacred.
So I offer this image not as a trophy of technical achievement, but as a testimony. A reminder that even the faintest reflection can carry the weight of glory. That even in the dust, we are seen. We are loved. We are part of a story far greater than ourselves.
May you find peace in the shadows. May your dust be touched by light. And may your journey, however clouded, be filled with grace.
Until next time, keep looking up!
-g
