moonlight

Under the Same Stars

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

It’s a beautiful late summer night. The bright, cold moon shines down like a beacon; the pin prick stars glow.

Lying on the well-worn hammock strung up between two old oaks, Eric lets the quiet wrap around him. The country air blankets him as he looks up at the night sky; deep and black like velvet. Vestiges of warmth seep up through the sunbaked grass in the little meadow behind the barn. He can hear the animals shifting and snuffling as they settle in. It’s restful here and Eric needs some rest.

 He remembers the excitement he once felt looking up at the night sky, pointing out planets, and learning the constellations in the bright, winking stars. His Dad and Grandpa Bo bringing out the trusty telescope to search the sky is a cherished memory. He’s forgotten the peace he once found in the mystery of the night sky.

Life is hard right now. The struggle to make ends meet and keep the legacy of his little farm going is such a heavy weight to carry. Generations of Simpsons worked this land providing for their families and those in the little towns just down the road. He’s so afraid he will be the one to let it go under, let people down, and not be enough.

Looking up at the star strewn sky, Eric begins to pray.

“Lord, it’s been a while and I’m sorry for that. I’m out of options and I see no way out. I remember Grandpa telling me that You always make a way and always provide. Will You please make a way now? Please, Jesus. I need You.”

Pouring out his heart to the Father releases tension that’s been pent up and stewing in his body and spirit. He feels softer inside; he feels seen. Safe.

A cool breeze picks up and ruffles the meadow grasses, shushing and sweet. Is that a whisper he hears?  “Way maker…”

Under the same stars, Sophie walks her faithful chocolate Lab, Pete, through the neighborhood as it quiets for the night. These late-night walks always calm and soothe her spirit. As she breathes in the fragrant night air, Pete’s nails clip along the concrete in a steady and soothing rhythm. The measured sound gives Sophie’s scattered mind something to focus on.  There are too many decisions to be made and too much piled on her shoulders! She desperately needs a respite; something to settle and silence the clamor.

What if she makes the wrong choice? What if they reject her? What if she ruins everything and they laugh behind her back?

If she can just sort out it out, prioritize, be decisive, be enough…

Around the corner and down Vista View Lane is a small neighborhood park with a little pond. This pond is her happy place. Tucked in and cozy, there’s a gravel path leading around the pond, winding through the willows and aspens. The wooden bench sits nestled under the drooping willow branches.

As she and Pete stop to sit for a few minutes, Sophie notices the cold, white moonlight tracing a path across the dark pond. Its edges are smudged and feathery, but the light is sure, steady, and bright. A clear path. A lamp for her feet.

It’s lovely and so peaceful.

As Sophie gazes up at the inky, star-filled sky, she gently runs her hands over the silky fur on Pete’s soft neck and back. The soothing moonlight and shimmery constellations make her feel safe. For how many thousands of years have other humans who felt lost, insignificant, and alone, looked up for guidance and direction, for peace and answers? That thought brings her comfort. She’s not alone.

Listening to the cricket song and chorus of frogs, her mind is quiet and her thoughts no longer seem so jumbled and frantic. Clarity, like moonlight, illuminates the choices she needs to make, as answers and a plan take shape.

“Thank you for seeing me, Lord. Thank you for Your wisdom. You are my shelter and my shepherd, my help in time of need,” she breathes.

As Sophie and Pete make their way around the pond heading for home, a gentle breath of air shushes in the aspens behind her; is that a whisper she hears? “Way maker…”

Under the same stars, the Spirit of the Lord hovers. Wisdom and truth, protection and healing are in His wings. Grace and mercy, love and acceptance flow from His mouth. New life and abundant joy, victory and peace swirl around Him, cascading down and over His beloved. He sees each one and answers the cry of their hearts.

Under the same stars, prayers are answered, lives are redeemed, bodies are healed, souls are refreshed, and supernatural battles are won.

He still sees and hears as He has for thousands of years, and as He will continue to do for thousands more. There is nowhere you can go that He will not find you.

Under the bright moonglow and scattered stars of any given night, each of our souls are seen, known, and deeply loved by the Lord of Heaven.

Psalm 116:1-2 NLT “I love the Lord because he hears my voice and my prayer for mercy. Because he bends down to listen, I will pray as long as I have breath!”

Photo credit: Andrei Nigrin

Moonglow

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

Thin, wispy clouds veil the bright moon as it sails high. The moonglow shining in the chilly air illuminates the garden casting eerie yet beautiful shadows – mysterious and exciting. The velvety black sky is the backdrop for the constellations and planets tossed into place by Your hands. Your divine fingerprints are everywhere. Your words continuously breathing life into all things – renewing, revealing, restoring.

The cold, bright moonlight falls across my pillow bathing my face in its glow. Chilly air puffs in through the partly open window above my bed. My thin quilt gives just enough warmth to be cozy and lovely. It feels peaceful and safe. I’m seen and known, even in seasons of darkness and shadows You will find me. The Light always pierces the darkness. Things unseen are always exposed by Your light. I’m never alone.

I drift off to sleep covered by moonlight, surrounded by Your whispers in the nighttime breeze. Your fingerprints dance over my face, my heart, and my spirit soothing, revealing, renewing, and healing. Hope flows and intertwines with deep peace and unconditional love, as Your lullabies of compassion and mercy swirl and gentle the hearts and minds of those You adore and carefully watch as they slumber.

Photo by Brett Sayles on Pexels.com

December Moon

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

The December night is dark and deep, stillness and chill seeping into bones despite a layering of coat, scarf, hat, gloves, and thick-soled boots.

Footfall is muffled and shushed along the pine-strewn path, boots stirring up the ancient scent of the woods and winter-shrouded earth.

The hush of the forest has a particular sound—not truly silent to the careful observer but full of the rustle, scurry, and purpose of those living in the night. Frigid air gives their purpose a new vigor with warm dens and beds of fern, pine needles, and forest detritus waiting to give shelter.

Deep, full inhalations fill lungs to the brim with invigorating, life-giving air. Oddly, the heavy chill, though it burns and startles, offers peace and affirmation of knowing one is alive and well. Sometimes it takes the cloak of a dark, wintry, forest-y night to bring clarity to the chaos and exposure of living in the light.

Rounding the curve in the path, the stillness of the pond with the shimmery moon-glow trail on the dark water is breathtaking. A path of light and love painted on the water by the brush strokes of One who loves to bring awe, redemption, and delight. Loved. Seen. Safe.

The sound of stealthy prowling comes from the edge of the pond as a night hunter shifts and waits for dinner. Circle of life.

Moving along as the chill ever deepens, the hooting of an owl adds to the frosty night noises—haunting and lovely, it is primitive and wild.

The path around the pond circles back on itself, and my boots head back to the cabin. Thoughts of the cheerful fire in the firepit on the deck and the warm sherpa blanket urge me onward at a brisker pace.

Wrapped in the cozy blanket, Irish coffee in the large Christmas mug warms my cold hands, steam rising merrily as the fire mesmerizes me.

A scrabbling, crunchy noise interrupts my reveries as a creature moves about to the left of the deck, digging through pine needles and foliage for a midnight snack. Curious glowing eyes spy on me. The shadowy outline of a fat raccoon in the faint reach of the firelight watches me until her curiosity wanes, and she moves along.

Leaning back in the deck chair, the stars appear strewn about like so much glitter landing at random points. But nothing is truly random. The night sky is beautifully planned and decorated with patterns and puzzles of light created to lead the ancient traveler.

Frosty breath wafts up as if making its way to the austere moon that guides, watches, and travels the night sky. Fascinating to imagine all the eyes that have looked up in the night for navigation and a sense of constancy in a world that doesn’t always seem that way. A balm to lonely souls, the shining beacon of light makes things feel safer and less chaotic.

The shepherds on that holy and silent night looked up into the same chilled, star-filled sky that I see on my deck as the fire glows and snickers to itself. The same moon watched on as the Holy One became man, as angelic hosts filled the still and starry night with the most awe-inspiring, stunning display of power and love that humankind has ever known.

It is not by happenstance that eyes are drawn upward—seeking wisdom, direction, meaning, safety, love, and blessed peace.

From a cold and silent winter night, filled with moonlight and stars, came the Light of the world. A Divine exchange between Creator and creation. Ultimate gift. Unconditional love. Emmanuel.

Warm bed beckons, and I head inside, mind full of awe as I struggle to comprehend the enormity of the gift humanity was given on that night so long ago.

The old wood stove burns quiet, drowsy warmth. I curl up under quilts and comforters as the light of the moon gently glows through the snug window. Thoughts of angels, joy, and eternity soothe and calm into a restful sleep—a silent and holy night where all is calm and bright under a December moon.

From Divine Appointments…

Photo credit: Martin Mariani

December Moon

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

The December night is dark and deep, stillness and chill seeping into bones despite the layering of coat, scarf, hat, gloves, and thick soled boots.

Footfall is muffled and shushed along the pine strewn path, boots stirring up the ancient scent of the woods and winter shrouded earth.

The hush of the forest has a particular sound – not truly silent to the careful observer, but full of the rustle, scurry, and purpose of those living in the night. Frigid air gives their purpose a new vigor with warm dens and beds of fern, pine needles and forest detritus waiting to give shelter.

Deep, full inhalations fill lungs to the brim with invigorating, life giving air. Oddly, the heavy chill, though it burns and startles, offers peace and affirmation of knowing one is alive and well. Sometimes it takes the cloak of a dark, wintry, forest-y night to bring clarity to the chaos and exposure of living in the light.

Rounding the curve in the path, the stillness of the pond with the shimmery moon-glow trail on the dark water is breathtaking. A path of light and love painted on the water by the brush strokes of One who loves to bring awe, redemption, and delight. Loved. Seen. Safe.

The sound of stealthy prowling comes from the edge of the pond as a night hunter shifts and waits for dinner. Circle of life.

Moving along as the chill ever deepens, the hooting of an owl adds to the frosty night noises – haunting and lovely it is primitive and wild.

The path around the pond circles back on itself and my boots head back to the cabin. Thoughts of the cheerful fire in the firepit on the deck and the warm sherpa blanket urge me onward at a brisker pace.

Wrapped in the cozy blanket, Irish coffee in the large Christmas mug warms my cold hands; steam rising merrily as the fire mesmerizes.

A scrabbling, crunchy noise interrupts my reveries as a creature moves about to the left of the deck, digging through pine needles and foliage for a midnight snack. Curious glowing eyes spy on me. The shadowy outline of a fat raccoon in the faint reach of the firelight watches me until curiosity wans and she moves along.

Leaning back in the deck chair the stars appear strewn about like so much glitter landing at random points. But nothing is truly random. The night sky is beautifully planned and decorated with patterns and puzzles of light created to lead the ancient traveler.

Frosty breath wafts up as if making its way to the austere moon that guides, watches and travels the night sky. Fascinating to imagine all the eyes that have looked up in the night for navigation and a sense of constancy in a world that doesn’t always appear that way. A balm to lonely souls, the shining beacon of light makes things feel safer and less chaotic.

The shepherds on that holy and silent night looked up into the same chilled, star filled sky that I see on my deck as the fire glows and snickers to itself. The same moon watched on as the Holy One became man, as angelic hosts filled the still and starry night with the most awe-inspiring, stunning display of power and love that humankind has ever known.

It is not by happenstance that eyes are drawn upward – seeking wisdom, direction, meaning; safety, love and blessed peace.

From a cold and silent winter night, filled with moonlight and stars came the Light of the world.  A Divine exchange between Creator and creation. Ultimate gift. Unconditional love. Emmanuel.

Warm bed beckons and I head inside, mind full of awe as I struggle to comprehend the enormity of the gift humanity was given on that night so long ago.

The old wood stove burns quiet, drowsy warmth. I curl up under quilts and comforters as the light of the moon gently glows through the snug window. Thoughts of angels, joy and eternity soothe and calm into restful sleep – a silent and holy night where all is calm and bright under a December moon.