The sliver moon

Last night, while walking the dog, on the way home, just before home, I caught a glimpse of the sliver moon in the dusky western sky. The sky was still light, just beginning to darken softly, the sun just beginning to sleep, the sliver just starting to shine. The trees stood as dark intricate silhouettes against the sleeping waking heavens. This reminded me of Oregon, of the retreat, and of evening prayers, where I'd gaze out the windows at the sleeping sky waking sliver moon resting just a hair above the intricate outlines of the ponderosa pines. Cool quiet pine air settled around me in the dim room lit by our prayers of hope of pain of grace of joy of brokenness.

I feel unsettled today, and scared, and sad, if I am to be honest. The changes ahead feel daunting and difficult as Aaron and I consider dreams and family, living and being. Can we do what we do with a child? And do we want to? We, the two of us, have made adjustments and compromises, have found support and creativity to adapt to our non-traditional path. We've made it through New Orleans, Santa Fe, San Francisco, Baltimore, Kentucky, New York, and all over LA. But can we keep it up? Can we do this when our two that are one become three (well, four - let's not forget dear Zoe!)? Will we have the creativity, the support, the energy? I don't know. And I don't know what if not this.

There are no decisions being made today, and probably none for a while to come. We are doing our best to listen, at least I hope that's what we are doing. And maybe in the listening we will live in to the answers. I don't know. I'm not always good at this.

I long for cool pine air and I long for the intricate bold silhouettes of mountain pines. I long for the quiet of a young low in the sky moon. And I long for the grace of god.