When The Moon Comes Out To Play

On July 16, 1969, the world watched in anticipation as three men were hurtled skyward, bound for the moon. The successful landing on July 20, 1969 ushered in an era of moon exploration. My own fascination with the moon began in childhood. Not the scientific allure, telescopes and museums, rockets and moon gear. Mine is pure romance. One glimpse at a brilliant full moon commanding the sky, telling the world yes, I came again, I came back for you all and my heart comes undone. I count on the beauty, I need the beauty. For two nights, dragging myself to bed, exhausted, praying for relief, the hazy, effervescent light found me. Peeking between wood blinds, all glory and luminous, slanted light splaying bright stripes across bed pillow. A ray of soft light, a veil, painted my nose, forehead. My gaze pinned to the fullness, to splendor. Tears washed down my cheeks, the moon came back for me. Like it always has. I drew in a breath, thank you I managed, all senses attuned to the moment, to the incandescent display. Time spent slow, wet face tilted toward window, beauty trumping discouragement, I thought of running outside like Ann Voskamp to chase after the gift. To run panting through wheat fields, but this is my own story to live, I let the fullness of the gift adorn me. Lying with the glow shining through blinds, I played hide-and-seek, moving the position of my head, face damp with wonder and joy. Eyelids heavied, cheeks moist, like a child's lullaby the moon sang me to sleep. Oh, how He loves and woos, afflictions eclipsed by glory once more, Heaven meets earth. The moon came back for me.