Catalina Mountains, Tuscan, Arizona
Psalm 8: 2-4
When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers,
The moon and the stars, which You have set in place;
4 What is man that You think of him,
And a son of man that You are concerned about him?
— NASB
I have always loved the moon, the way you can look right at it without
shielding your eyes. How it just sneaks up on you without fanfare. One
minute the sun is shining, then it has its showy exit, and, quietly the
moon begins to emerge into the darkened sky. There are those few times
in the fall when it “shows out” with its huge, orange spectacular-ness, but
most of the time, the moon quietly rises and then hangs around in the
morning sky until it is sure the sun can take it from there.
However, on this trip, the waxing and waning of the moon took on a new
significance. More than at any other time in my life, I marked the days by the
increasing and declining light of the moon. Each night as I prepared for bed and
walked to the bathhouse, I looked up into the desert sky to see what the moon
had to tell me about my journey the next day. If there was a cloudy circle
around it, I was pretty sure it was going to rain. If it had transformed from a
fingernail to a half cantaloupe shape, then I could leave the flashlight in the
camper for a couple of weeks. Every day, as it changed, it marked the days of
my journey.
The Native American conversation about many moons took on new
understanding for me in the desert. The space and time to appreciate the
evening sky rather than end the day holed up inside allowed for a holy and
consecrated celebration of God’s wonder and the Creative Unknown.
I had planned so long for this trip, and each night, as I looked at the moon in the
desert sky, I was reminded of how quickly it was going. It was the season of
growth and discovery that I had hoped and prayed for, but the nightly reminder
of the passage of time sometimes saddened me. I finally determined that I
could simply lean into the experience. The moon reminded me to be intentional
about the journey. I learned to absorb every day and what new thing it had to
teach me because that night, the moon would remind me that those days were
finite.
But the Hope that I learned was that the same moon would meet me when I got
home. It may be harder to find in my mountain sky than it had been in the
desert, but it was still there, able to remind me that each day is precious and
worth noting. There are no “throw away days.” They all have value and beauty.
It reminds me of the old childhood toy the viewfinder, clicking images of the
moon as the celluloid and paper circle went round and round as one held the
toy to the light. There was a continuity in the pictures of the waxing and waning
moon. When it ended, it would begin again. That clicking sound of the toy, is
like the beating of our heart as it clicks and marks our days here on this earth.
Full of beauty with a rhythm as old as Creation. Praise be to God.
Prayer:
Oh God, who created both the moon and the sun, let us live into the life that
you have given us. Encourage us to value and learn from our journey here. Help
us to look for hope in our moments of uncertainty and share our strength in our
moments of clarity. As the days of our lives wax and wane, let us live them fully
and abundantly in your Love and Grace, Amen