It’s 5 AM. I’m up because of the moon shining in my bedroom window. Big, bold, beautiful, and quietly moving across the sky. So bright it nearly seems daylight. I marvel that every day somewhere this is happening. At least once a month it’s my turn to see this beauty. On its own, going about its business of shining brightly, it never ceases to amaze me. Something so beautiful, peaceful, radiant. Mysterious. Isn’t it wonderful that something so beautiful is going on?! There’s a lot we don’t know about the moon. But one thing we do know is its regularity, its uncompromising sense of duty. It does its job without apparent complaint. At least no fussing we are aware of. It brightens the night, keeps the darkness at bay, seems to say “I am here to lighten your load, here to remind you of what really matters: God’s present and “all’s right with the world”. Even if we don’t always see it, good is going on.
I was angry last evening, trying to straighten out an Amazon order I never received but was charged for. I wasn’t thinking about the moon’s brightness. I’d started out friendly enough on the phone, but after an endless unhelpful menu and customer service person swirling me in circles, I lost my cool. It was a Friday night. This wasn’t what I’d planned. My husband and I were going to see a Netflix, I’d just spent the day dealing with a rambling to-do list, fussed at a cantankerous kitchen appliance, hunted futilely for an important misplaced item, cleaned the kitchen after making an elaborate Mexican dinner, and now I was just trying to take care of one final bit of business. Like the moon, I had better things to do.
But it wasn’t until about 4 AM that I saw the need to drop my consternation over what was really a trivial matter and see the world as the moon does. It’s not likely the moon “sees,” but just watching its trajectory for an hour I couldn’t help but give it anthropomorphic characteristics. I supposed it knew the need to keep radiant, even when a storm ensued. I supposed it never let even the littlest cloud get in its way of shining. It didn’t fuss over unfair charges, misplaced objects, or appliances not working. I supposed it appreciated the heavenly Source that enabled it to shine. I imagined it never got angry at Amazon.
The moon knows its job. It is to radiate light, not succumb to darkness. That, I realized, is my job, too: not to succumb to darkness–not even slightly. To go on with the job I have, to shine in my own little speck of the universe. To appreciate my Source. To appreciate the light that surrounds me. To watch for it, acknowledge it. To reflect light even in the most mundane circumstance. Isn’t that why we–and the moon–exist?
Mothers know this need to shine. Through sorting laundry, holding crying babies, making endless meals, cleaning up everything, while maintaining a part-time or full-time job, they manage to shine. Just like the moon. A bright light in so many lives, a mother–be she fat, thin, polished or rough, old or new–is beautiful–well, at least on most days. On Mother’s Day we remember her shining moments. She and the moon inspire us to see the bright light of good.
Isn’t it wonderful that something so beautiful as the moon and mothers is going on?!