Last Wednesday night after Lenten service, I was out on my porch roasting coffee. It was beautiful, crisp and clear. The moon was almost full and huge in the night sky.
I always think it’s cool to imagine who else is looking at the moon at the same time as I am. Famous people, world leaders, long-lost family members, old friends. Lovers enjoy each other under the same moon that shines on the poor, the forgotten, and the persecuted. And me, roasting coffee, enjoying a gift from the hand of God.
There are something like six and a half billion people in the world. Only about half of them, I guess, can see the moon at any given time. Most of the people under Sister Moon are probably inside, sleeping or eating or watching CSI or enjoying their family or trying to scrape together some kind of existence on this often unforgiving planet.
Is this as close to alone as I will ever get? Is it really possible that I was the only person on earth roasting coffee under the full moon last Wednesday?
Coffee-in-hand: Colombian Popayan