poetry

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

Raw

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

Raw

The morning view from my kitchen window is filled with shafts of pink and pale orange that stripe the sunrise sky and mix with the slate grey of the cloud cover. It’s so quiet and still. The neighbor’s fig and plum trees have lost all their leaves. The branches look stark and raw stripped of their leaf cover. Raw…

I’m the first one up except for the dog and cats. The house is chilly as the heater begins its task of warming things up. I love the feeling of my warm coffee mug bringing warmth to my chilled hands. It’s comforting. It’s soothing. It’s routine and I look forward to it every day.

Standing at my kitchen window watching the Creator begin painting the sky with even brighter hues and bursts of brilliance that word, raw, simmers in my brain. I feel raw this morning. It can be defined as in its natural state; not yet processed or purified; not analyzed, evaluated, or processed for use.

The Christmas season is over and the new year looms ahead. I always feel off-kilter and unsettled this time of year. The build up and anticipation, the plans and decorations, the bright glitter and shine, the special food and the hope of seeing loved ones has worn off and dulled. Putting it all away for next year, the clearing up and cleaning out, the good-byes and see ya laters await and it all just feels raw and painful. So much can happen in a year, a month, a minute and I am not a fan of uncertainty. I try to live in the moment and let go of worry, fear, lack of control and lean into the new, the blessings and adventures that will come.  But it’s still hard. My emotions are raw and chaotic. They need a resting place. Help, Jesus…

As I watch the morning unfold on my patio trying to sort my thoughts, a feeling of safety and tucking-in surrounds me. It’s beautiful and startling. I know it’s You. The comforting words of Psalm 139: 1-2 open up in my mind, “O Lord, you have searched me and known me! You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar.” As Your words soak in, the pent-up emotions and chaos tumble forth. You understand the raw, the chaos, and the frantic unsettled feelings that don’t have a place to land. You are the landing place and the wide-open hands. You are the Alpha and Omega, the One who can sort, sift and make any sense of the jumbled thoughts and rawness. You are the One who calms and smooths out the unanalyzed, the not yet processed, natural state of the human heart and You purify it. It feels freeing, safe, and cleansing giving it to You in its raw, clouded and mixed-up state.

With You, I don’t have to tone it down, gauge the emotional capacity of the one I’m sharing with, dismiss and diminish myself and the rawness of my emotions in order to protect someone else, or use copious amounts of humor to tame it and make it palatable to another. With You, I am just me – all the raw feelings, the laughter and tears, the rumblings, the nonsense, the hope, and the fluttering anticipation that watches and waits to see what blessings You will pour out this year.

We all need a safe, protected place to just be with Someone who knows every single thought, emotion and the reasons behind each of them.  It is a beautiful, holy and sacred thing to be raw. No holding back – no lengthy explanations and justifications. The whole of our humanity in the presence of the One who created every nuance.  I never fully realized how freeing and breathtakingly intimate it is to be raw in the presence of God. It is sacred ground.