The July Moon
This moment, here, and now, is real.
The waves crash into the moonlight and get drawn back out to sea.
Lighting returns from the ground to the sky.
The orange moon speaks to the waves. Move.
And yet again they crash, shattering the still moon beams.
No shadows dance.
What was given to this earth returns to the sky.
Light returns to the source.
Here I sit, on this lifeguard stand being drawn to the sea and the sky. They both call and beckon and in this moment I know God orchestrated this moment.
A year ago I sat in the dark on a beach called St. Kilda in Australia and stared up at the full moon and down at the reflection of it in the sea.
This year I sit in the dark on a beach called Hilton Head in South Carolina and stare up at the full moon and down at the reflection in the sea.
In both moments the reflection of the moon shatters in a rhythmic pattern. This time however the moon is red.
Both are symbolic.
Each year as I grow I stare at a very similar reflection. One that has stared back at me for years and years. But it continues to shatter. I continue to sin. But as the tide comes back in, my reflection returns, beautiful and clear. With each wave my reflection breaks only to return soon to perfection.
Each time I sin and my sorrows rush out to sea, God calls them back in. I am forgiven.
This time the moon is red. As each wave shatters and they come back in renewed, the red moon bleeds in the ocean. Pain and sorrow, like Christ on the cross.
The red moon breaks into white foam, pure and renewing. Just like when the red blood is poured over us.
Amazing Grace I declare. Oceans (where feet may fail) I sing. The Scandalous Night, I remember.