Sacredness in the Small Things with Small People

It was a typical evening. I had just brought the toddler in from outside, and we were getting ready to prepare dinner. Then the light of the almost-full moon caught my eye. The little guy had just learned to say “moon,” and so I brought him into the temple (aka the enclosed back porch) to look at it.

I turned off the lights and sat with him facing the silver disk as she rose from behind the hill of the small valley that makes up my backyard (sounds impressive, but we’re really just in the middle of a busy suburb and happened to get a hold of some really neat property!) He looked outside and said, “Moon!” I said, “Yes, that’s the moon. Pretty moon!” Then he repeated over and over, “Peedee moon.” The still golden-laced silver light poured through the window and lit up his face. Those round cheeks were aglow, and it was as if I were looking at the human embodiment of a young moon. I looked out to see the light was dancing off of tiny puddles that collected in individual leaves in the woodsy space. Hundreds of silver reflections danced back at us.

I didn’t bother to concern myself with the very bright orange lights across the creek lighting up the soccer field. Nor did I pay attention to the street lights in the distance, the occasional headlights of the neighbors’ cars, or the grating jake-braking of trucks on the nearby highway that sound like mechanical flatulence. Right in that moment, there was naught but the silver moon, the woods, and my little woodland sprite. 

He looked at me and then nuzzled onto my chest. He lately does this thing were he just rolls his face over mine repeatedly. It’s a bit painful, but sweet at the same time. So we’re nuzzling and face rolling, all the while lit only by that sacred light that warms my being every time the moon is bright like this.

Then the little guy caught sight of the rattles. Yes, they’re technically for spiritual purposes only, but what precisely was this? Could we get any more spiritual in this sacred moment? So on we went rattling, trading and shaking, giving it a try with our toes, keeping the beat that only the two of us felt. The silver light lit a smiling, round face while sacred rhythms danced in our ears.

It was not planned, orchestrated, or prepared. We were in our dayclothes, sitting on a couch, having a moment before the chaos of dinner preparation took hold. Together, without many tools (and even those were spur of the moment,) we had a little ceremony honoring the sacredness of the beauty of the bright, moonlit night.

You can plan, prepare for, and deliver an elaborate ceremony that takes months of development and feel nothing. You can also drop what you’re doing and take those sacred moments as they appear and make the most of them. In the busy lives of parents, these little moments are just as powerful as the most elaborate ceremony imaginable. After all, Spirit has already delivered the right materials. We just have to take that moment to open to what seems so small in order to be delivered larger than we can ever imagine.

Incidentally, he was quite the gentleman the rest of the night, especially for a 1 year old! Seems the impromptu ceremony made an impact on the usually rambunctious little guy, also!