The other night (Saturday night actually. The night before the full moon) I was rushing around trying to get the night time rituals done—a cranky tired baby and 5 year old were making me cranky too and I wanted everything picked up, pajamas on and girls in bed NOW!
As I went to quickly close the curtains I spotted it beckoning to me through the tree branches that had tiny buds on them---the full moon. It pulled me. This happens each time I catch a glimpse of it, my breath catches and a feeling of awe overcomes me. That night it was almost overwhelming—probably because of my mood.
Without really knowing what I was doing I grabbed the camera and slipped barefoot out the door. It was chilly but I needed those few moments of awe and wonder, the reminder to slow down and notice the majesty that is outside my window just waiting to be taken in. I couldn’t get a good shot from the deck so I stepped onto the grass—it was cold and damp and grounded me. It sent a shiver up my body as I walked to where the trees cleared a bit. And there it was in all it’s glory—almost full—so much so that it looked full. Big and bright against the deep blue of an almost dark sky.
I snapped a few pictures before stopping to simply gaze at it. The moon that has cycles, that appears as an almost transparent white in the deep blue of mid-afternoon and at other times, like tonight, as if it is glowing. It captivates me and pulls at my soul in a way that I can’t seem to capture in words.
As I stood there shivering slightly, my bare feet in damp grass, I felt alive. I felt connected, to God, to the universe, to others, to all creation.
The moment didn’t last long before the pull of children needing their bedtime routines beckoned me back inside. I look back now wishing I had made sure to capture it more, to have been even more aware of the moment.
But it is enough that I took that time—that I stopped to notice even for a fleeting moment, that our souls can expand and be ready to soak in even more of the next moment that comes.