I saw it when I shut the lights out. It was time for bed, and the nightly routine needed to be performed -- lights flicked off, doors locked, TV silenced. One final yank of the plug on the Christmas tree and it became dark, the grand finale in this electric world we'd die without; the day's closure.
The marsh was aglow. I stepped closer to the window, and I peered beyond the glare to see a white moon suspended above the grass and mud. A coastal swamp clothed in a light the shade of pearls.
But I wouldn't have seen this if it wasn't dark. The lights in my life needed to be extinguished, so then I would see the light of Creation -- the Light that created me. He came for me. This night.
The moonlight never begged for attention.
The Son of Man didn't cause a scene. He came softly in a stable, while the moon that night -- was quiet as could be.