By the Light of the Moon

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When Mom and Dad were newlyweds in the early 1940’s, Dad was called 1000 miles away on a rare business trip. Mom could hardly stand the thought of him leaving but came up with an idea. At 10:00 each night they’d both step outside and look up. As Mom put it, “Our eyes will meet on the moon.”

When we were kids and she told this story, I thought she was crazy. Later, in high school Latin class, I learned the word luna meant moon, and Mom’s story became the perfect example of lunacy.

Rumor has it when the moon is full, women go into labor more often and traffic accidents increase, along with irrational behavior of all kinds. I don’t know if that’s true, but science has confirmed something that is: the moon affects ocean tides. I suppose if it can pull on sea water, it can probably mess with the water in our brains, too.

Each month when the moon is full, I look forward to Jack’s midnight walk. If the sky is clear, I don’t even need a flashlight, especially during the winter when the trees are bare. Moonlight illuminates the road just enough to see. But when snow covers the ground, moonlight bounces off the white surface so brightly, it casts shadows much like the sun except that the neighborhood glows in silver.

God wants us to appreciate what he’s made. He doesn’t want us to love the moon, stars or sun to the point of worship and makes it clear such adoration is wrong. But he does want us to notice and attribute our amazing world to his doing.

I wonder how it must have been for God just before he created the Universe with its phenomenal heavenly bodies. Did he spend time planning what he was about to do? Did the Father, Son and Spirit enjoy round-tabling ideas about the not-yet-formed heavens and earth? Because God is someone who works in microscopic detail as well as in mega-ways, I like to think he enjoyed the whole process, anticipating, planning and doing.

If he approached the heavens and earth with eagerness, what must he have thought before making human beings? Although we’re like grains of beach sand compared to stars, sun and moon, we’re not insignificant to God. As a matter of fact, he sees us as the high point of his creation, the only thing eternal. He gave us each a soul, and in this we’ve been made “like him,” an astonishing reality.

It could be that the moon serves as God’s object lesson for us, not as a nightly link between separated newlyweds but as an example of reflection. Just like the moon mirrors the sun, we’re to reflect our Creator, a challenging assignment but a most worthy calling.

“When I look at the night sky and see the work of your fingers—the moon and the stars you set in place—what are mere mortals that you should think about them, human beings that you should care for them?” (Psalm 8:3-4)

God makes plans.

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Our dog Jack is a faithful pal and tag-along buddy. After choosing him out of a group of shelter dogs, we’ve enjoyed his placid personality and gentle ways for eight years. When Nate died, Jack seemed to understand our grief, especially mine, and stayed close throughout each day.

I know dogs don’t live long, especially 80-pounders, but I’ve had a serious chat with Jack, letting him know he’s got to be above average on this. That means no running off, no risky behavior, no unhealthy eating.

And he promised.

But today Jack took a chance. While my nephew-in-law did some carpentry at the house, I set off on five errands, leaving Jack to take a nap and then watch Drew work. On errand #3, Drew called. “Jack ran off, and I don’t know where. I was using the nail gun, and he didn’t like it. He started throwing himself at the door trying to get out, so I let him out, but he took off.”

Jack has never been spooked by thunder, fireworks or the vacuum. I couldn’t imagine him being afraid of the nail gun. He’s also spent lots of time outdoors without me and has always hung around the yard. But since he and I usually run errands together, maybe he’d gone to find me. This was worrisome, since we’re not far from a four-lane, 65 mph road.

Drew said he’d go looking for him, and I called off my errands to drive the 25 minutes home. Fifteen minutes later my phone rang again. “I found him. He was sitting at the gate [to the neighborhood], waiting for you,” Drew said.

Never had Jack done this. How did he even know where the invisible line was between our subdivision and the rest of the world? He must have watched as he and I had driven out the gate before and knew it was my only way back in.

I know Jack is “just a dog” and won’t always be with me. But God has used him as my companion of blessing during these days of missing Nate. Eight years ago, the Lord saw me as the widow I am today and led us to that last cage at the shelter. It was God who caused Jack to sit quietly while the other dogs jumped and barked, which was what won us over. Part of God’s long-range preparational plan was to put this furry friend into my life back then, for now.

When we trust God, no life situation comes without him having first prepared us. This goes for even the traumatic stuff: divorce, accidents, disease, abandonment, death. When we feel we’re falling, we should never panic, because God has readied our soft place to land.

It was probably divine direction that caused Jack to run toward the highway today yet plant himself at the gate. It was the Lord who preserved my buddy, at least for now. And when Jack’s last day does arrive, I’m confident God will have prepared me for that, too.

“You can go to bed without fear; you will lie down and sleep soundly. You need not be afraid of sudden disaster for the Lord is your security.” (Proverbs 3:24-26)

Losing at Love

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It was Valentines Day today, a day to celebrate love, but I witnessed the unraveling of a love relationship. Because I had to sign something, I found myself at the county courthouse. While waiting in line for my turn at a glass window with a talk-through hole in the middle, a young couple carrying a toddler stepped up to a different window not far from mine. The sign above theirs read, “FAMILY”.

As I waited, I watched them, worrying over the reason they were at the window. The mother, looking like a middle school kid with her tiny frame, was burdened down with a massive diaper bag, a big purse and a heavy baby. I just hoped they weren’t filing for divorce.

But it was worse than that.

The father (think teenager) leaned toward the window to explain. “This here is my baby, and I want to give up custody.”

The woman on the other side of the glass winced a little and said, “You mean you want to terminate your rights as a father?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he said, without a bit of emotion. “See, I don’t wanna give ‘em any more money. I haven’t worked for a year, and I don’t have any money. I wanna be done.”

I looked at the mother, who sat down nearby. She, too, was without emotion.

A rush of grief swept through me, and I wanted to know every detail about these three people. Had they finished high school? Did they have a place to live? Had they raised their baby together, this far? Did they have parents who were helping? Had they told anyone what they were doing today? Did they have any money? Or food? Both of them were reed thin.

But it was my turn at the other window, and I had to look away. A man seated at a desk behind the “FAMILY” window said, “Geez. When are these kids gonna start taking responsibility for the dumb decisions they make?” I glanced over to see if the little family had heard him, but they were gone.

A few minutes later, headed for the elevator, I saw the mother sitting on a bench in the hall, her baby on her lap holding a sippy cup. The father was not around.

I smiled at her, and she smiled back, so I walked up and said, “You have a sweet baby there. How old is he?”

“Almost two,” she said, turning his face so I could see him better. “He was born two months too soon, but the doctor says he’s doing pretty good.”

“He sure looks like he is,” I said. “He’s darling with his big blue eyes and curly blond hair. You must be very proud of him.”

“Oh I am,” she said, and we continued to chat, two moms who both love children.

When I finally stepped toward the elevator button, she said, “I hope you have a really nice day, ma’am, a really good day.” I thanked her, wished her the same, and the elevator door opened. Hopelessness washed over me, and the sting of tears made me grateful I was headed for the privacy of my car.

When I got there, the Lord aborted my crying by delivering a strong message. “That situation is not hopeless. You should know better than that. Why don’t you stop despairing and help them?”

I knew what he meant.

As I helped by praying, God reminded me he already knows the answers to all the questions I’d wondered about while waiting in line. He also has the power to affect dramatic, positive change in their lives. Since I would never see them again and couldn’t be of relationship help, praying for them was an opportunity to trust the Lord to act on their behalf.

With God involved, there’s always hope.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5:3)