As dusk falls, the sky turns rose pink and dove grey
and the moon, a big round orange orb, rises from the sea,
through the milky clouds and shines bright,
dropping a path of shimmering silver towards us, across the sea.
A sliver of the scene lit up, as the rest recedes into darkness.
The air is filled with the rumble of waves and the damp of sea spray.
It reminds me of a painting that belonged to my granny that always fascinated me.
A moon-lit seascape with a lonely boat, barely lit.
It seemed mysterious and sad. Alien to my life experience at that time.
Such happy memories of spending time in her home,
when life seemed so simple and uncomplicated,
no big issues, fears or concerns.
Plenty of time to play, imagine, create.
The brokenness and evil of the world hadn’t invaded my little world.
Naive some would say. Blessed I guess. Protected for sure.
But now back in my current moonlit seascape
the world doesn’t seem so safe, certainly not as simple.
Sometimes I feel like that little boat in the painting.
In the dark, cast adrift, disconnected, desperate for the clarity of dawn.
And yet in my good moments I know what, or who,
is the anchor of my little boat.
The anchor which will hold me still until dawn breaks.
And I find I’m not alone in my boat after all.
Even when life feels unsafe,
when my little world is invaded
by the brokenness and evil in the big world out there,
even when I don’t understand.
God is with me in the boat
and that makes all the difference.
And so maybe I can dare
to take time to play, imagine and create again,
trusting His presence is better than an answer.
© Hilary Murdoch 2014. All rights reserved.