A Mirage of the Moon

She wakes from nightmares—friend Ann— only to feel her sheets and realize, It was all a dream, a mirage of the moon.

Today I am still dealing with a string of mini-crises— the latest being a flood in the basement (how can this be, when we got trenches dug and a sump put in last year? Well, the rains have nowhere to go, so this year they are welling up from under the house itself, where frozen ground has said, 'there is no room.')

A few minutes ago, before reading Ann's words, I'd been climbing the stairs and thinking of the beauty of this small house, despite the current troubles. I'd been thinking of Lemony Snicket, who made me laugh with his running theme on perspective, in A Series of Unfortunate Events.

Then I opened to these words, It was all a dream, a mirage of the moon, and suddenly I was back on the stairs with Lemony and his perspective, thinking, There is some way in which all the crises we encounter are mirages. Our end is glory.

There are stars, says Ann, when she wakes from the nightmares.

There is glory beyond this moment, I say.

Maybe even a strange kind of glory in this moment— me moving sopping boxes, me being resourceful and finding another sump to use to direct the new water towards the new-last-year sump, me climbing old red oak stairs and opening the book of a friend. And just now, the sun over the river, over snowy trees— a lick of red welcoming the new moon rising.

Perspective. It doesn't take away the pain. But it does sift through for the glory.


Quotes from Chapter Two of One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are.