Let the full moon guide me.

Let the full moon guide me. Not many of my christian friends feel comfortable with me trying to explain how I started praying to the full moon when I was nine. I was in catholic school in Colombia and the teachings of God I received were very far from this practice. Yet, I felt my whole being change every month and could not keep my eyes from gazing at the sky in my bed until I fell asleep. It was my first experience of worship and an image I could pray to that was mesmerizing, constant yet very elusive. I believe that was my first gentle nod from the Holy Spirit.

I was given my first Bible as a teen and could not stop reading it. Pure poetry to me. Sadly as the years and religion took a hold of my heart, I stopped losing the wonder of that silver light in the night. Most of the time it was a huge burden to carry the weight of the world as the great commission became my mantra and I had to save the world with only a few radical disciples to do it. With that mentality I went on a mission for to my country at a time were the drug war was at its worse.

I would be surprised once in a while when that moon would peek out of the Andes mountains in the cold night. Breathtaking! Too busy on my mission and kids, and work and sickness to really stop and pray to it or really to pray at all.  Twelve years later, the great movement of God I was part of collapsed as it needed to be humbled and I was a broken woman close to turning forty. Most of my dreams shattered because for me this mission was a cause to live and die for, a revolution. It was going to change people spiritually one at a time, and it was breaking the social cast system in Colombia that is so unjust.

A decade later, unchurched, relieved from the burden to play God and save the world, isolated from real community as my few close friends live far. Calling myself a quester, a seeker of Truth, yet losing hope of finding something authentic. I find myself again praying to the full moon in silence, waiting for a nod, for some direction. As I have come to know, it takes guts to follow a Spirit that moves like the wind and one cannot predict where it will show up. It has shown up in the most unexpected places and people. It showed up with the feminine qualities of God I have been longing for! It led my to the mountains of North Carolina this summer, to the Wild Goose Festival. A bit overwhelming at first to be there, I wanted to drive back to Florida and forget the whole adventure. But I found an orange tent with techno-zen beats that calmed my heart. The next few days were surreal. Found myself by the flowing river, soaking wet and a flood of tears in my eyes. This could be heaven on earth, people of faith seeking peace and justice, seeking the essence of God. I heard the echo of Grace, I was able for the first time to liberate the Holy Spirit from the law.

As I prayed with my son early this morning, the ghost of a full moon still in the sky, I was renewed with hope. She had been there all along. The wild-goose chase has come full circle.