I have to tell you about the moon.
It’s been orange, and white, and somewhere in between. It’s stood prominently against the backdrop of the sky, casting a glow on my skin and the world around me. Bright and true, I’ve been impressed with it’s presence. Profound in it’s beauty, surrounded by darkness. It needs the darkness to stand true.
That’s what I keep thinking about. How the brightness is dependent on the darkness around it.
It’s steady, you know? It’s always there, even when I can’t see it. I watch it as it appears again, slivers until it’s full. And I watch it each night as it disappears for days, until it returns. Prominent again. Full. Breaking up the shadows, showering us in hues of colours that don’t exist outside of the night sky.
And I come back to that thought, that my beloved moon needs the darkness around it. It needs it. Or maybe it is the light that redeems it. It wouldn’t be bright without it. It wouldn’t show the craters, and the crescents, and the glowing flecks of light surrounding it. It wouldn’t be the moon without the dark sky around it.
And I can’t shake it.
I can’t fathom how we need the darkness in our lives to see the light.
In this can I thank Him? In this, can I thank Him for the darkness? In Him, can I trust that He can redeem the darkness to reflect the light far greater than the light could shine on its own?
Is it all a part of a grander picture, far greater than I can or will ever see?
Can I find Him in it?
I meet Him there, as I always do, beneath the moon. Blanket around me, words and tears mixed, light sifting through the black of the tree branches. And I need to find Him in it. I need to see Him in it. It’s my prayer, whispered over and over again: Let me see You. I feel as if I am the woman alongside the road, grasping to touch His cloak. My hands are reaching, God. My eyes are straining. It’s a desperation, a grasp, that He’s found even where I least expect Him to be.
And when I find Him, the robe grasped between my fingers, my sorrow and gratitude mix together. Separate and yet together, light and darkness,
And finally, I breathe, for I know. He is in it. In the trenches beside me, He is there. Although I am surprised by Him, He is not by me.
And it is in the surprise that joy seeps in. Like my moon, casting shadows, and sending hues to dance across the night sky, so does His presence.
And the darkness is no longer the same.