Watching the moon through trailing clouds. Sometimes the light shining brightly, almost hurting the eyes for its brilliance. Sometimes very muted through the veil of thick cloud, sometimes blotted out entirely except the shining around the cloud's lining. As I lay here in bed, I admire it.
My open window let's the raucous laughter of peoples up the street and cars driving in the area. I think of how annoying their loudness is. But God whispers and reminds me, "I think about what your hand has made. It made the lights in the sky."
And those people. It also made those people. And I see how the moon and those people are the same. I am humbled. By a God who really cares.