I see the Moon (Published in Presbyterian Outlook)

I see the moon. The moon sees me. God bless the moon. And God bless me.

I see the moon.
The day is over. I am over it.
I sip chardonnay on my back porch. It is peaceful here.
As darkness enfolds me, she is clear and precious and beautiful. Just like Francis said.
She shows up each night, partial or full, and occasionally just a hint of her newness.
The moon: she is constant and changing.
Her sister stars appear around her as if awakening to her presence.
Her light encourages theirs.
I don’t need to connect the dots to see the glories of her heavenly realm.
Space is splendid. Space between each glorious light is steadfast.
They hold each other as if in an ethereal crown.
I see them twinkle as if they are winking at one another in
flickers of solidarity.
They are loyal to each other and to the task of lighting the way
to see. Or so it seems to me.

The moon sees me.
She sees that I have lost some of my luster
and she still loves me.
In the dark silence, her calming presence burnishes my soul;
she buffs out the harshness with her softness.
I welcome her gentle touch.
She sees the other women too.
And she knows that sometimes friends are just out of reach.
We are all looking at her, really, to her
for the assurance we are not as alone as we feel.
We offer our silent prayers, worries and anxiety.
Some of us Scream. Howl. Cry.
She knows us, each of us, who count her appearance 28 times. More or less.
She understands what it means to cycle through phases of empty and fullness.
The moon sees us as we are.
She reminds us that it’s ok to take time to refill. Pause in the empty spaces.
Fullness will come back in its time.
We will see.

God bless the moon.
I wake before the sun to see the moon one more time.
I thank her for keeping watch with me
and for me, after I finally slipped into sleep.
She and her sisters shimmered around my dreams.
She is magic.
She has turned tears into stardust.
Screams into sunlight.
And carried my prayers into the holy night.
My heart sings goodbye to her in harmony with the chirping birds.
My soul sings of the mellow blueness just before dawn.
I miss her already.
I wipe the sleep from my eyes.
Thank you, sister moon
and stars.

And God bless me.
The moon whispered her blessings over me all night long.
I have enough to get through another day. I am enough.
God, help me to be steadfast like sister moon and stars.
May my dull shimmer be enough to encourage my sisters to shine too.
In fullness, waning, or in subtle newness,
I offer my light, the reflection of your love.
Bless my best efforts.
Bless my attempts.
Bless my rest.

I see the moon.
The moon sees me.
God bless the moon.
And God bless me.

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