Whether we offer a sliver or full slice of us in the world around us, Karyn Henley helps us consider our faithful presence.
Elisa
The Pull of the Moon
By Karyn Henley
In the crisp cold, pale blue morning sky, a crescent moon peeks through the bare branches of an elm. A moon in the daytime seems such a gift, a bit of magic. I think of this bright shape-shifting gem as a companion of darkness and stars, but here she is in the sunlit sky. She is on the wane, but she will return to full in a week or so. Such a faithful friend, always returning. The thought touches some deep place in me, and I feel tears gathering.
I have become a weepy old woman. Tears come easily—when I’m sad and when I’m happy, when I’m weary, when I’m worried for my children and grandchildren, and when I’m deeply grateful, for as the psalmist David wrote, “The property lines have fallen beautifully for me.” (Psalm 16:6 CEB) And I am old and free to weep, even over a simple crescent moon that will silently, steadily wax to full and then wane again to a sliver.
The moon doesn’t know how important her return is each night. Or day. She doesn’t know how she pulls the tide, how she marks the seasons, how she’s watched and followed and named when she’s full. Harvest Moon, Wolf Moon, Snow Moon, Flower Moon.
She is teaching me about myself—that I don’t know how important my return is each day, even when I feel like I have only a sliver of myself left to offer. How I pull the tides and mark the seasons of so many lives. How I’m watched and followed and named. How I’m depended on to return to full. And I do. By the grace of God and the kindness of friends, I do.
On this crisp cold, pale blue morning, I peek up through bare branches and nod to the bright crescent. “Same here, dear moon,” I say. “Same. Same.”
Karyn Henley is an editor and a trained book coach who has been writing for children and adults for over forty years. She has also been a teacher, public speaker, and entertainer. Currently she is an artist on the board of Art and Soul Nashville and sings in the choir at church. A curious observer, she enjoys solitude but also enjoys her grandchildren, travel, and the ever-changing beauty of nature. Her most recent book is Noticing: 365 Days of Calm Reflections.