I had to run a quick errand in Wathena just three miles away last evening. When I came back, I stopped at the end of our driveway down by the road. I put the empty trash can in the back of the CX-5 and then checked the mail. As I closed the lid, I looked down and noticed the stark silhouette of the post and box etched on the ground.

At first I thought it was the shadow from the billboard lights over next to Fleek’s Market. Then I noticed the angle was wrong. “Oh, that must be from the moon!” I realized and looked up.

Sure enough, high above the frozen ground of northeast Kansas, a three-quarter moon shone brightly. Brightly enough to cast the shadow and illuminate a few high, thin clouds. And… the contrails of a jet a few miles high and headed east. The long narrow plumes stretched out behind the jet, glowing in their reflection of the moon’s fine light.

I wondered whether anyone else in the area happened to look up and see that same sight, the calm, simple wonder of night’s small favors—a bright moon, passing clouds, and a solitary jet headed to some distant destination.

It really doesn’t matter how many or how few take note of our passings in the night. As long as we reflect the Light and stay on our path. And—eventually—reach our destination. That. Does. Matter.