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.