Photo from Google Images - Seoul, South Korea, the North Tower, and the Moon
I just came back from up at the barn a few minutes ago, and the moon was *gorgeous*. It's a golden yellow tone, inching it's way into the Winter sky behind veins of spilled ink, seeping across a canvas of violet blue. I stood out there, the warm glow from the lights inside the barn spilling onto the ground, and me just watching, staring, wondering who had taken the time to look at that 'lesser light' just hours ago. My brother comes up behind me in the dark, hands full of eggs from the chicken coop.
"Why do people like to stare at the moon?" he asked, a mocking tone in his voice. I shrugged, hands in pockets, still gazing upward.
"Because," I said, eyes locked. "It's... beautiful."
In my mind, I thought, Because it's a chance to think. Here in the cold, in the dark, I'm watching this moon, praying, thinking, wondering.
The moon is like hope.
It starts out a faint light over the horizon, and then begins to creep into the nighttime sky, inch by inch. We can't tell it's moving; can't see it with our naked eye - but it moves. We look away, we blink, and it's moved. It's like hope - we can't see what our hope is doing - we can't tell where it's going. But give it enough time - and it does amazing things.
Tonight is a beautiful night.
December is the month of White Love.
Following the cold comes the snow.
And I'll still gaze at that moon. I'll still close my eyes, smile, and pray, and never give up hope; because hope is from Christ - Life is from Christ - and my life is awesome.