Me and the moon: a conceit

I am the moon.

I look down on the world from on high - but all my light comes from you. I glow only because the you shine on me. When I was younger I thought that I was all the light that I needed, just me, shining brightly, but as I've grown older I realise that I have none of my own at all.  I depend on you.

You are the only light.

Sometimes, occasionally, people see and comment on my unique beauty - but that too comes from you; it's all because of you. Most often I am not bright enough for people to notice me at all. Without you to illuminate me I'd be completely dark; the world wouldn't know that I was there. Now and then when there's nothing between you and me to get in the way, that's when I'm best; reflecting your light. On those occasions I shine. Your light bounces from me - I am occasionally a source of inspiration, but always I fade and give way at sunrise.

Continued......

Read the rest, should you so wish, over at the Association of Christian Writers' blog, which is called More Than Writers. I'm there on 23rd of each month, so do come and say hello.

Moonlit night

Dear God,

I am like the moon.

I am the light of the world - but all my light comes from you. I glow only because you shine on me. When I was younger I thought that I was all the light that I needed, just me, just as I was, but as I've grown older I realise that I don't have any light of my own at all.  I sit and spin and soak up reflections and warmth from the source of all light.

You're the only light.

Sometimes, occasionally, people see and comment on my unique beauty - but my beauty too comes from you; it's all because of you. Most often I don't shine brightly enough for people to notice. Without you to illuminate me I'd be completely dark; the world wouldn't know that I was there. Now and then when there's nothing between you and me to get in the way, that's when I'm best; reflecting your brightest light. On those occasions I shine. Your light bounces from me - I am even a source of inspiration, but always I fade and give way at sunrise.

When I can't see you I am in darkness. The side of me upon which you don't shine is pitch black. No light there at all. I keep this side of me angled away from you all the time. I don't show it to you but I know that you can see it. I can hide nothing from you. Sometimes I long for your light to penetrate through the whole of me and I spin around trying to find illumination through and through but I find so many parts of me are still in need of your light.

I can't do it on my own.

Sometimes, strangely, we're found in the sky at the same time, but if you're there and the sky is blue and you're shining in all your glory I'm hardly noticeable. All eyes are drawn to you, not to me.

That's as it should be.

I look faint and fragile. A close examination reveals scars and craters where things have hit me and hurt me, but you have to look carefully.  I have wounds. Feet have left footprints. My injuries made marks that won't go away, and yet it makes me more interesting. Intriguing. The contours of my scars; my imperfections - they tell a story. I can only tell it when I am lit by you.

In the daytime the sun shines and the shadows are banished. There's no darkness when you're there. At night, just sometimes, when I'm big enough and when it's clear and your light finds me just as you intend it to, when conditions are perfect and it all comes together - my light penetrates the darkness too. It does! It illuminates the gloom and brings a subtle, silvery beauty of its own. Nothing like the indescribable golden brightness and majesty of you, but maybe enough to see by.

A reflection of you.

Enough light to travel by.

Enough to see the way forward.

I have a job to do and you enable me to do it. When people look at me, they see you; or that's the idea. Even when the world is in darkness, the light reflected from the moon shows the world that you are still there. You never disappear. You might be just over the horizon but you are always there.

And then, at the end of the night, I will give way to the true radiant Light which floods the world over the horizon with splendour and glory.

That's you.

Amen.



Linking here with Nacole at sixinthesticks for this week's #concretewords.
Writing abstract thoughts and ideas inspired by a concrete word. This week was 'The moon'.

Moonlit night

I am like the moon. 

I am the light of the world - but all my light comes from you. I glow only because the you shine on me. When I was younger I thought that I was all the light that I needed, all on my own, but as I've grown older I realise that I don't have any light of my own at all.  I sit and spin and soak up light and warmth from the source of all light.

You're the only light.

Sometimes, occasionally, people see and comment on my unique beauty - but my beauty too comes from you; it's all because of you. Most often I don't shine brightly enough for people to notice me. Without you to illuminate me I'd be completely dark; the world wouldn't know that I was there. Now and then when there's nothing between you and me to get in the way, that's when I'm best; reflecting your light. On those occasions I shine. Your light bounces from me - I am even a source of inspiration, but always I fade and give way at sunrise.

When I can't see you I am in darkness. The side of me upon which you don't shine is pitch black. No light there at all. I keep this side of me angled away from you all the time. I don't show it to you but I know that you can see it. I can hide nothing from you. Sometimes I long for your light to penetrate through the whole of me and I spin around trying to find illumination through and through but I find so many parts of me are still in need of your light.

I can't do it on my own.

Sometimes, strangely, we're found in the sky at the same time, but if you're there and the sky is blue and you're shining in all your glory I'm hardly noticeable. All eyes are drawn to you, not to me. That's as it should be.

I look faint and fragile. A close examination reveals scars and craters where things have hit me and hurt me, but you have to look carefully.  I have wounds. My injuries left marks that won't go away, and yet it makes me more interesting. Intriguing. The contours of my scars; my imperfections - they tell a story. I can only tell it when I am lit by you.

In the daytime the sun shines and the shadows are banished. There's no darkness when you're there. At night, just sometimes, when I'm big enough and when it's clear and your light finds me just as you intend it to, when conditions are perfect and it all comes together - my light penetrates the darkness too. It does! It illuminates the gloom and brings a subtle, silvery beauty of its own. Nothing like the indescribable golden brightness and majesty of you, but maybe enough to see by. A reflection of you. Enough light to travel by. Enough to see the way forward.

I have a job to do and you enable me to do it. When people look at me, they see you; or that's the idea. Even when the world is in darkness, the light reflected from the moon shows the world that you are still there. You never disappear. You might be just over the horizon but you are always there.

And then, at the end of the night, I will give way to the true radiant Light which floods the world over the horizon with splendour and glory.

That's you. 

Here comes the sun...please

Did you see what happened this morning, God?

It couldn't have been a greater contrast from yesterday. And that's a good thing.

Yesterday at 6.20am I was rudely awoken by the sound of conflict in one of the girls' rooms and it turns out that someone wouldn't surrender the fourth wheel for a Lego model they were making saying that it wasn't fair that one person should have all four wheels. This hadn't gone down well with the other, who didn't have it in mind to create a tricycle, but some sort of moon buggy or something that required a wheel at the end of each axle. You'll note that I'm not giving names to the combatants in this little drama, but the truth is that I'm not entirely sure who was in which corner. Only that it was 6.20am, the alarm wasn't due to go off for another hour, and I Like My Sleep.

I refereed as best I could, which means that I was probably a bit shouty and a bit narky and definitely squinty. Then I got back in bed and put the pillow over my head. By getting up time I had a headache and the children were cross and the morning had the odour of one that wasn't destined to go that well. The rest of the day wasn't brilliant either, and by the time I went to bed, having discovered the second of two suspicious lumps on Katy's neck, it had nosedived further. 

Today I heard the children up and about and it was a blessed 7.30am. If I'm allowed to wake up on my own I go into the day in a whole different frame of mind. By the time I was showered and dressed (and still miraculously unmolested by small people), I was feeling reasonably positive, but a bit heavy of heart after the previous evening's events. I went in search of the children to brush their teeth. 

Not my favourite job. Lizzie is much better these days but Katy hates having her teeth done and she makes it very difficult.  It's like brushing them through a letterbox. A wriggling, complaining letterbox. But that's by the way.

I called them from the landing and there was no response. This is not unusual; they often 'don't hear' me call them at teeth time. So, feeling gracious, I went in search. I got almost to their bedrooms when a little head popped out of Katy's room and Elizabeth informed me that they couldn't come just yet, they were busy. 

Busy dancing. 

Elizabeth and Katy have just discovered The Beatles. Elizabeth's favourite song is 'Yellow Submarine' and Katy's, until this morning, was 'Ob-la-di Ob-la-da'. The song they were dancing to was 'Here Comes the Sun'.

Here comes the sun...

I love that song. It's possibly my very favourite Beatles song, though I have a habit of changing my mind according to whichever track I'm listening to at the time. It must be a close thing as I adore 'Penny Lane' as well; Bryan was living in a flat in Penny Lane in Liverpool when we met. We stood at the window and watched a rainbow in that flat in Penny Lane. We watched films on a tiny black and white telly and drank cheap red wine in that flat. Nostalgia...

I'm getting off the point. 'Here Comes The Sun' was playing and the children were dancing around the room. Katy had her eyes shut and her hands in the air and she was wiggling and gyrating and skipping. Elizabeth (with the slightly better rhythm of a nearly-seven year old) was grooving away and they were both laughing and singing along.

'Here comes the sun 

Doo doo doo doo

Here comes the sun and I say

It's alright...'

It made me smile. And for someone who'd got up with the gritty residue of a poor night's sleep worrying about Katy and her new lumps on her mind, smiling was good. 

'It's alright...'

For Katy it was alright - she was smiling with joy and singing the 'Doo doo doo doo' bits at top volume. For Lizzie it was alright because she was falling about laughing when Kate lifted her hands above her head because her nightshirt rode up and she could see her bottom. 

It was alright for me too.  It was not a moment for insisting on oral hygiene as a matter of urgency.

'...and I say it's alright...'

I shimmied into the room and joined in with uncharacteristic abandon until the end of the song and then it was time for teeth brushing. (The next track was 'I Am The Walrus' and I'm not entirely sure that it lends itself to dancing anyway). 

I just wanted to tell you about it because it was one of those moments. One of those little special, precious moments where you wish that life had a pause button. Strange for me to experience many of those moments before breakfast, and that's another reason that I think it was from you. 

Thankyou. 

My daughters laughing with delight. A cheerful song with a message about coming Spring. 

'Little darling

It's been a long, cold, lonely winter...'

Spring is almost here. The sun is coming.

The Son is coming. Easter is only a few weeks away. 

'Little darling

The smiles returning to the faces...'

The three of us were smiling. Dancing. Worries notwithstanding. With morning teeth. 

Thankyou for a little message. 

Thankyou for a moment with my girls that I won't forget, even though it only lasted for a minute or two. 

Thankyou for the sun, which indeed has made a brief appearance today. 

Thankyou for music and inspiration and the capacity to find a spark of joy in our morning routine.

Thankyou for a little bit of relief from the anxiety of waiting to find out what the story is with Katy's neck. 

Thankyou for reaching down and giving me a hug when I needed one. It changed my day.

'Here comes the sun.'

Amen, Father. Yes please.