Were It Not for the Moon

The moon at dawn over western skies.

So many things to check off the list, the stuff of life that overwhelms, consumes, depletes. You know what I mean. I have lived my life defined by what I do, but there are moments too powerful to ignore; like the time the full moon edged its way through the blinds in mother’s bedroom as she slept in the recliner by the window. Her eyes were closed, yet her head was tilted to the skies, expression one of wonder. It looked as if sometime in the night she heard the voice of God calling to her from that circle of light in the darkness. How could I not slide to the floor at her feet and wait for her to waken? How could I not change my priorities? And remember my name is Mary, not Martha?