Our house is very dark at night. We have so many trees, such dense shade that little light - natural or otherwise - really makes it into the house at night. So, it was strange to me when I walked into the kitchen and there was light. Light was shining on the pantry, through the sliding glass door that leads to the back yard.
It was moonlight.
I miss moonlight. I sat down on one of the kids' stools and looked at that square of light and shadow and at the moon itself (I believe that night was one of those supermoon nights...I know little about what that means, but it was a very bright moon).
In Texas, we had no shade. That made for some intense heat, but the mysterious beauty of unhindered moonlight streaming in our windows for nearly half the nights of each month was an ethereal treat.
Of course, shade is its own blessing, to be sure, and we enjoy it here.
That morning was the first time I've noticed moonshine making it into this house. So, I sat still, moon-bathing, I guess you could say. I slid the glass door open, so that I could hear the crickets and cicadas more clearly. Have you ever listened to them? It's music, to be sure, especially when the night is almost over and the singing is peaceful and slow. (They get phrenetic and angry sounding in the heat of the day.)
And I thought and sat still and I cried and prayed. I'd been telling BB I felt all wound up inside lately, strangely sad, but wasn't able to put my finger on the exact causes. Sometimes you just need a cry, right? And sometimes you need an alone moment for that. I wandered onto the back porch as the moon sank down and the day crept up, and cried and prayed some more.
Breaking down a bit in the cricket-song and moonlight helped me be more honest with myself and with the Lord. Quite cathartic and energy-giving.
Glory to God...this is the work of the Wonderful Counselor.
Trust in Him at all times, you people; pour out your hearts to Him, for God is our refuge.
Psalm 62:8
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