I peer out the window over top of the blind in the den and see a cul de sac bathed in light. It’s not the artificial light of streetlights, (They’re off. I’ve never been able to figure out the schedule they operate on.) but the ethereal glow of moonlight.

I knew the moon was full when I went to bed last night in a room filled with a similar light coming in over the top of the blinds. Now I move and twist and try to catch a glimpse of the orb that offers such light, but see can see only the slightest sliver over the top of the garage.

If I went outside and stood on the front lawn, I’d see the fullness of the moon, but the magic of the glow it washes the morning in is enough for me today.

So I sit with on the sofa with my dogs and my coffee and reach for my Bible where I read about blessings and other things evident but not always visible and I am reminded that walking by faith is preferred over walking by sight. It’s the better way. The best way.

I can no longer tell that my corner of the world is awash in the glow of the moon because I’m sitting under another light. An artificial light. A light I need in order to navigate my way in a world where my senses have limits. But the moonlight’s still there.

Somewhere else someone wakes and stands at their window filled with wonder at the moonglow and pauses just to take it all in. Maybe they’ll carry some magic with them into the day.

Maybe I’ll carry some magic of what I couldn’t quite see with me into the day.

But, you know, these days get away from us and, even now, we get distracted. It’s so easy for things like this to slip from our minds. So we return. Morning after morning. Full moon after full moon. Season after season.

And we are filled.

So we can pour out.

This is the way of the kingdom.


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.
  1. Filled to be poured out. Yes, Yes, Linda. Even and especially in this difficult pandemic season.

    I so appreciated this gently powerful reflection you’ve shared with us today. May your weekend be restful …

  2. How funny–as I lay in bed last night, I was thinking about the moon and about writing a moon poem.

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