Moon begins his leisured descent. Ducking and diving through pocket of cloud, the gridded panes of my window defining the distance. My eyes closed in prayer distracted by the movement, not wanting to miss the bright and beautiful dance. Smoke from the neighbored chimney misting the full moon’s surface. The otherwise dark morning a perfect palette to observe the unfolding journey.
That moon-man’s direct gaze, his face level with my eyes, staring, undoing, defining. That funny looking man opening my heart, observing the inner workings. Like The Truman Show, is everything a set? A plan? Is my life just part of this divine arrangement, my movements, my pain, my joy all predetermined by some Being somewhere? This God who knows my every step, my every word? Is He/She/It just waiting for me to settle in, to claim the space for which I was designed?
I hope not, it sounds so boring. This moon reminds me how small, how ordinary, how significant I am, simultaneous but not random. A beam on me alone, in the company of millions. Direct spotlight shining, brightening the spiked naked branches, house rooflines, my under-caffeinated sleepy face. Moonbeams punctuating darkness, uncovering the hidden. Skittering and cloaked creatures disclosed.
This light, a disservice. Much I’d rather keep covered – motives, attitudes, lies, pride. Oftentimes the revelation of our truth and mess disconcerting, the darkness masking those pieces well. We are all human – even the saints among us have murky corners.
I do long for authenticity and honesty, I think this is where we gleam, where we heal. My temptation to prefer surface existence – I do my life, you do yours. We accomplish our things that make up a day, earning a good and worthy existence. Sports, meals, movies, groceries, church and school, work. Our days tick, like clockwork, crossing items off the never-ending piles of lists, moving about with no real thought to eternity. But this moonlight tells, nothing is immune from revelation, all things have the potential to be uncovered. Motives will pop their little heads out of the hole. Failures lying in wait to ridicule. Distorted whispers of our fears.
However, the light ushers remarkable grace alongside the radiated betrayal of secrets. Whispering, It’s okay, I see you. You are so beautiful this morning. Thank you for seeing me, for recognizing my light. Grace whispers warmth. Grace calls out and says, Hey, stop hiding. Share this with a safe someone. Relief is ready. Grace, also a cloud, covers the light when it is too much, buying us time. Grace allows us to move at the proper pace, prodding without pressure, an insistent and merciful invitation.
The man creeps North with calculated determination. Mountains anticipating the drop, their work to cover, to hold the shiny orb, bearing the overwhelming burden of illumined responsibility. Nearing the time, my eyes fuzz, multiple moons emerge. The perfect circle’s descent speeds pulled by the mountain’s magnet, sinking halo wrangled.
Sun ascends in the opposite East while the moon is but a slice, gleaming with gentleness and warmth. Paths cross, a brief high-five slapped while trading places in the waning darkness.
Life, the balance of light and dark, the careful measurement of what we reveal to others about ourselves, what we reveal to God, or what we choose to hide.
The final sliver has parted, creeping behind low-lying cloud, below the jagged and premature mountainous horizon. Sunlight inching up and up, the dawn of a new day. Grace, always grace.
Good-bye and Hello.