The moon tonight had an angelic halo type haze circled around.
Many years ago, we’d made it back home from my mama’s funeral and had collapsed back into the house.
Worn, weary and drained.
Grief has a way of doing that.
You go through the motions of the ceremonial last gathering and when you’re done…you’re really done and emptied of most everything.
But, on that night almost six years ago, my nephew called.
Told us all, “Go outside, look at the moon…grandma Bette is looking down.”
And we did, my daughter and I, walked out into the cold January night and turned towards heaven to see the moon.
To stay there in that place, moonlit bright, shiny and fuzzy with glow as we felt mama, Grandma Bette looking down.
Tonight, the moon looked the same and I paused, not sorrowful or longing for backward steps; instead moving on as I drove.
Secure in the presence of moon, of mama.
Weaving on roads with few other people out, a cool night, stars all around and a crescent moon with a soft glow.
Making my way back home to son, daughter, husband and dogs…the glow of Christmas to greet me, the colors of Jesus filling the rooms.
I thought of the stars again, imagining how brightly they must have shone on the night our Savior was born, unobstructed by city light, by busy life.
I thought of shepherds following one star.
I wondered if they were convinced or unsure.
Doubted whether to continue on…following a star.
I wondered if their only hope was hope enough, to glance upward to stay on course, continuing on because of the one they were seeking.
The long expected one to guide us when star shine faded.
… they went on their way, and the star they had seen when it rose went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was.
When they saw the star, they were overjoyed.
Overjoyed by where the star led them.
Like me, maybe my nephew, my daughter, nieces, brothers and sister. We look towards the moon that leads us to remember, its aura, like an angel with halo.
We pause to lift our faces towards heaven.