On the last night of the decade, a blue moon shone full and bright. The snow that came just before Christmas seemed to glow in that light. Tree shadows interwove across the brilliant white. I cannot imagine that a night could be any brighter without some sort of cosmic cataclysm. When moon shadows show up as clear and crisp as those did on that night under a full moon shining through winterclear air, it’s hard to think the night could be brighter.

But it was still night.

Even in our most lucid moments, even when all that we consider seems to be clear, even when our minds seem to make sense of every detail in our lives, is there not something that seems to say “There is still mystery?” Even in those scenes of greatest beauty, when the grandeur before us compels us to marvel, is there not some hint that there is spectacle yet to be witnessed? Even in those moments of most tender intimacy, when it seems that souls share the same heart and mind, when friends and family wrap us warmly in closest embrace, is there not still a sense that we do not yet know as we might be known?

Perhaps all of that is witness of the perpetual searching of human, the constant hunger for more, the seeking that is hallmark of mortals. And perhaps it is evidence that our spirits and souls know more than we can comprehend. Perhaps it is signal that the spiritual in us is drawn to something greater, something vast and wonderful and unending. Perhaps it is the whispering of God, drawing us in the beauty of the coldest night, joining us in our closest encounters, urging us to love as we are loved.

Even though we cannot fully comprehend that truth, that beauty, that love, we may know that it is real. There were those who touched it, saw it, walked with it. We also have their testimony, as well as the other. We will make it through this night.

H. Arnett
1/14/10