on waiting for bigger, brighter days

I go out to see the Super Pink Moon and I know it is right there. I guess the overcast skies told it to shelter in place. I feel a little bad, though I know that the moon doesn't feel at all. I can see the outline of the moon lined up with the sun, ready to reflect all that light in a moment of glory. There it is, hanging high in the sky, ready for this Biggest Brightest Day of the Year, and then the clouds drift lazy past it. I walk back inside, admittedly, a bit disappointed. 

Seems like that scenario plays out in a many places these days. We're ready for big bright moments, and go back inside, a bit disappointed. My ever present struggle is balancing that line between contentment and complacency, between patience and "I guess this is how it is."

The calendar says that we are at a far away, desert camping, Texas Grand Canyon roadtrip with friends. Instead we meet up on Zoom. They gather at appropriate, socially distanced, spaces in a Midwest backyard. We perch on the futon couch in our Reynosa living room. Seeing their faces and hearing their voices and listening to the good news updates cause us to smile and to laugh out loud. But truth be told, video never completely fills the void. I want to be together. I want to smell the campfire smoke and have a glass of that red wine and look at them face to face. Even so, we finish and sign out with a hopeful "see you soon." 

I confess, in this season of waiting, I am hoping for second chances, for make up dates, and for still planned event to yet happen. I read that we get another chance to see the Supermoon this year, the Full Flower Moon next up in May. But really, the moon will be there, no matter if the clouds show up or not. In a modern version of the Psalms, I am reminded of our God, "his sovereignty as sure as the sun, dependable as the phases of the moon." This, I know, is true. That is where I will choose to rest content.