The other night was a full moon. I often look out through the curtains to enjoy my world bathed in moonlight. There are street lights too – orange ones – which rather spoil the full effect of the silver moonlight, but it is still beautiful and the moonbeams illuminate parts of the garden the streetlights don’t reach.
I had been outside on this particular night to enjoy the moon in all her beauty. She never ceases to take my breath away. Somehow she is gentler than the sun (which I always consider to be a ‘he’). Maybe her softer light hides some of the imperfections in my world, whilst the sunlight strikes them and makes them noticeable.
Standing in the peace of the garden I drank in her beauty. The traffic had stilled and silence surrounded me. I could hear the night sounds. Sometimes there are owls, in spite of the city life. Sometimes other night birds call. Perhaps a dog barks in the distance, or there is the sound of laughter from a neighbour’s home. I was a peace with the world and with my God.
But God had not finished with me yet. An hour or so later I was about to turn out my bedside light when I remembered some papers I would need early the next morning. I had left them in my study, where I do all my writing. I love this small room. It speaks of God’s presence and inspiration, of peace and joy, sometimes of frustration and writer’s block. But it is a charming room and I enjoy being there.
On this night I walked the length of the house. Usually, I turn on the light as I go through the door, but on this occasion, I knew exactly where the papers were and so just walked straight into the darkness.
Yet is wasn’t dark. It was flooded with moonlight. Silver light, illuminating the whole room dappled with the shadow of the delicate leaves on the Chinese maple outside my window.
I had never seen moonlight in this room before. And it was beautiful. I stopped to drink it in. The room itself flooded with silver light, the little courtyard outside the window and the pretty round table and two chairs where I sit and write from time to time.
I went to bed content. It is not a sight I can see every day – or every night – but I will make the most of it at the next full moon.
For it is as if God is saying to me, ‘This is the room where you work for Me. Do you see how beautiful I make it for you as you work here?’
I do, Lord. And I am grateful. May the work of my hands give you as much joy as the silver light of the moon in that room gives me.