God,Butter & the Moon

January 11, 2012

Adding my story to the Ann Voskamp series~The Practice of New Habits

I have always been an admirer of the night sky. I think it goes along with the dreamer in me. Last night as I wondered at the majestic beauty of the full moon, I was reminded of how just a short time ago, I feared that same moon.

It’s a fact (in my head) of the disturbances a lunar glow can bring to life. Every time there was a busy night in the nursery, I blamed the moon. Every time there was a crazy night full of weird happenings during a nightshift at the hospital, I would blame the moon. Even when my children start to have an abundance of suspicious energy, I find myself saying “is there a full moon?”

As much as I enjoy the night sky, there became a growing dread each month as the full moon approached. The reason for this dread was due to the fact that Claire’s worst seizures happened during the brightest lunar phase. More proof the diet is helping Claire to stay seizure free is my viewing the biggest brightest moon last night and rocking my girl to sleep in the comforts of our living room, far from the emergencies Claire’s seizures would bring.

It was during a full moon the last time I was strapped into a helicopter seat. Claire was fighting for her life behind me and fear was seeping into my entire being. As this fear rose, so did the helicopter. Rising into the icy cold winter night I felt a chill like no other. I thought this flying trip to another children’s hospital combined with the eerie cold dark, could not be a good sign.

My usual optimistic self was battling the dark in those few minutes of departing from the helicopter landing pad. That same landing pad painted with a giant white cross had brought comfort in the past. Seeing that cross knowing it was a landing zone to safety, to people who could save Claire from the life stealing seizure she had just suffered. But on that night, we were leaving that cross and my fears were mounting.

Our past emergency flights had been in the bright of day. This was the first time I experienced lifting off under the cover of darkness. The dark seemed to be taking over, until I cried the most comforting prayer I know. I closed my eyes with the uttering of this one name: Jesus. I felt the lurch of the aircraft in my stomach as we jolted up into the dark. Tears started to fall down my cheek and my heart pounded into a fearful fit.

The previous trips had ended with me seeing that cross on the landing pad as a sign from God. However, in the darkness of this night, He felt so far away. I thought, “Dear God, where are you in all this darkness?” Just when I thought where in the world could I find light in this moment, I opened my eyes to the night sky we were ascending into…nvgand there was the fullest of full, lighting the darkest of night.

 The lurch in my stomach from take off was nothing compared to the leap my heart experienced when I saw that beautiful moon. Knowing God created that beauty in the night, lighting my life in those fearful moments, was my sign. God was there, He is always there. Even on a cold dark December night. I only needed to look up.

I usually end my post with saying goodbye to something. Today, I don’t want to say goodbye, only Hello. Hello to God today and everyday. Hello to all the riches only He can give. Riches of a life blessed by saying Hello God and finding Him in the light of the moon on one scary night.

 A diet full of butter is thought to be of rich flavor , but a diet of saying Hello to God will provide more riches than one can imagine.

So, in every moment of life I choose to practice a new habit and say:

Hello God…Hello Butter

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