It’s hard to deny the power of a full moon. I’m not superstitious or even a fan of Twilight, but the last couple days have been weird. The moon was only half the battle, but it was also the most helpful and guiding presence throughout.
Monday night I had the pleasure of spending the evening with my sister, but the worst part is leaving. Not just because at 11pm I’m so cozy and ready for bed on the couch but more especially because I have a 30-minute drive ahead of me. I convinced myself that a sleepover wasn’t the best thing to do while I’m suppose to be house sitting on the other side of town so off I drove, in a ¾ awake stupor. My commute takes me through wheat and hay fields, gorgeous in the day and seemingly endless at night. As I drove my other senses took over. The smells of the hay and the embracing light and tide-forcing power of the moon brought me safely to my door.
As I drove home I began to think of Mary and Joseph’s journey to Bethlehem. I imagined them walking by light of the moon or the really bright star of God- I can’t remember if that was present on their walk or just after Jesus was born. Regardless, with a donkey and moonlight, they probably experienced a similar journey as I did. They knew they would find a stopping place, they new they were on the right road, but the journey seemed endless especially for Mary. I suspect when you’re pregnant all senses are heightened and so the smells, sounds, and feelings of that trek to Bethlehem would have been unforgettable even if she wasn’t in the prime of health, mentally or physically.
I had planned to write about this trip home once I walked in the door, but the bed called me. And the following 48 hours kept me in a ¾ awaken stupor. Things got done, I think, and great ideas were shared at work and with friends, I hope. But my senses were focused on something else completely. Maybe my body/mind/spirit needed healing from working out, or sleeping poorly, or reading a convicting book, or emotionally investing in people. My senses guided me, though, along with the moon that shone with intensity every night.
I’m not sure what to make of it all. I’m sure Mary had the same notion at times. “Um, Lord, are you sure about this? I’m on autopilot now just waiting for you to do another miracle. I’ll follow your light and try not to let the donkey’s breath make me nauseous.” So I live in the miracle of this day that seems so much more alive, clear and bright. I slept well and look forward to using the moon as a companion walking stick rather than a compulsory crutch.
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