What Moonbeams Do If Given the Opportunity

They brought me to The Old Barn. I was surprised by it. It was run-down, and from the outside it seemed just not enough to be what it was meant to be, or to do what it was meant to do, or hold all that it was meant to hold.

I hoped for a whole lot more inside. More space, at least. This can't be it. There's gotta be more to it, I thought.

I looked up in the sky. So big. And so many stars. You'd think here, in this giant field, with all the flowers, fresh grass, this sky… well, there'd be more to it. That's what I thought when I saw it.

I had expected a mansion or a castle. No servants, obviously, not necessary, but some big white circular pole things out front, maybe. A little pizzazz. Or just a simple place that’s nice and cozy, with lots of space inside to explore, play, something that makes you want to go inside, with lots of rooms, all kinds… lots of different colors would seem to go without saying.

It didn't look right. And it really didn't feel right, either, but nobody, none of the people who had lead me to The Old Barn, who were so certain of it, were interested in my feelings about it, and I was too shy to say anything about my feelings, and asking questions was… out of the question.

I did ask one.

"This is it?" I said to the too skinny woman who was assigned to me, and holding my hand too hard. Her smile was a straight line of teeth like you draw before you realize that's not what a smile really looks like.

I was scared, but if this was where I was supposed to go, I didn't want to go somewhere else and be all alone. The forest with its tall trees was beautiful in the daytime, but nighttime was dark and cold and at that time the forest had too many Unknown Things.

Something ran across my foot. I jumped and kinda squealed. Like a pig, maybe, if I was making comparisons, which I guess I am.

The woman told me it was good I was rejoicing. Some people just don’t know what rejoicing sounds like. I’m pretty sure it doesn't sound like a squealing pig.

She pulled me toward the door, which was tall, but looked too narrow to hold up its legend.

I looked back at the forest to remind myself this was the best choice, and I saw two big round eyes peeking out at me from behind a tree. The eyes looked through glasses and they looked wise. Like an owl, if I’m making comparisons, which I guess I am.

The eyes were like mine. I mean they had questions, not that I am, or was, particularly wise. The eyes blinked and disappeared.

The woman yanked me through the door.

I could barely see inside The Old Barn. Not much to rejoice about. It was hard to see anything and right off the bat I ran into a spider web, which, if you have ever run into one, you know, is scary and confusing.

I was in The Old Barn a long time. A lot happened.

I suppose I could tell you the whole long-winded story, tell you about everything I saw in that old sad place, but if you haven't been there yourself you wouldn't really understand, and if you have, it would bore you to tears to hear me repeat it.

I should say there were some lovely moments in The Old Barn, living inside the walls of it, I mean… but telling you everything that happened to me is not the point of this story.

Here are the important parts.

The woman who held my hand let it go as soon as we got in there, and said, "Remember now. This is all there is to it.”

I had so many questions, and even though I wasn't supposed to, I couldn't help it and opened my mouth to ask one, but she put her finger to her lips and said, "Sssssshhh," and then disappeared before I got a single sound out.

My eyes hadn't adjusted, so at first I just stood there in the cold and dark, alone, with not one of the other people who had lead me there in sight. Not a sound either, which made no sense. And again, it didn’t feel right, but what did I know, they would have told me, “You’re a child. You don't know things.”

Then, I smelled poop.

That was it. I couldn't take it. I yelled, "Is this seriously where He...? I mean, is this where She actually--? Can someone please tell me if They truly—?"

I really didn’t understand how The Whole Thing worked, despite being told, “This is all there is to it,” so I couldn’t make The Question come out quite right to get The Answer, even though I thought there had to be a lot of both questions and answers, and I was really mad about being in the dark, cold, alone, and having to smell poop.

I stomped my foot. A dust cloud swirled up from the floor. Light sparkled off it from a thin moonbeam coming through a crack in the roof.

It felt like the moonbeam was saying, “If you’d listened to Yourself you might be cold, you might be in the dark, you might be alone, but you wouldn’t be in The Old Barn smelling poop.“

But it wasn’t saying that. That’s not what moonbeams are like at all. If you don’t know that, I can tell you, they’re not. I wouldn’t want to give that impression. Just, in the moment, it felt like that.

Right after I stomped, and the dust swirled, and the moonbeam danced on it, (because that’s what moonbeams do, given the opportunity), a very old woman stepped right up to me. Outta nowhere, it seemed like. Kinda like a ghost, if I was making comparisons, which I guess I am.

This woman had only one very high eyebrow and no smile at all. She had a mouth, but no smile. Not like she just wasn’t smiling right then, but more like she didn’t get one when they were giving them out.

“Who is ‘She’? What is ‘They’? Only He lives in The Old Barn,” she screeched, kinda like a hooting, not so wise, stepped-on owl, if I knew what that sounded like, which I don’t, but I’m saying it anyway.

Right then I realized the poop smell was from her ancient mouth, which hadn't spoken any new words in a very long time. And that’s when my eyes adjusted and I noticed everything looked old and run-down on the inside, just like the outside.

And there were no questions there! None welcome, either. Which I guess I said before, but I’m saying it again anyway.

No wonder it didn't feel right when I saw it, I thought.

Then I saw the others, the ones who had lead me to The Old Barn. I didn't see them because it got a whole lot brighter, but because my eyes started to grow accustomed to where they were.

I saw a lot of other people too. Thousands, millions. I couldn’t imagine how so many people could fit in such a small, cramped space. But every time someone came, space was made for them, yet somehow The Old Barn never got any bigger.

Many people were sad, but still did not question. Just like me. Some couldn’t breathe from the dust.

We pretended we didn’t mind it wasn’t nicer, that we weren’t disappointed it was so small and that there was only one big room and not a whole lot of them we could explore.

No one dared say how odd it was there was no color on the walls. How long had it been exactly the same? Always?

Some chained themselves to the walls. They smiled all the time. That was really scary. It wasn’t even necessary, chaining themselves that way. Their smiles were flat lines just like the woman who’d brought me in. I never saw them eat, but of course the food was awful anyway.

Some people looked like they were singing, but no sound came out. They made me the saddest.

I tried to make a home in The Old Barn. When I realized I'd be there awhile I looked in all the available corners and tiny cracks, but I just couldn't make the The Old Barn a real home for me.

So, I stayed in that same spot where The Moon had found me the night I arrived. And I thought often how moonbeams dance on dust, when given an opportunity, because it’s what they’re meant to do, and how they don’t question it, but I felt certain if they did ask The Moon curious questions, The Moon would be happy to answer. And that perhaps, on nights when the moonbeam didn't visit it had found a leaf to light or a bit of dew to sparkle on instead.

Then one day, after too long awhile, a familiar, blinking-eyed, glasses-wearing wanderer was dragged in from the forest by a hard-hand-holding man with a straight-line smile.

It was Wise Owl Eyes, from the forest, from behind the tree. But you knew that of course.

I had been too afraid to leave The Old Barn. I didn’t even know if I could. And, of course, I couldn’t ask.

But Wise Owl Eyes, who had seen me come in, had heard me screech and knew I was not rejoicing when I did.

He was a curious questioner, too, and he came to find me as soon as he'd arrived.

I was staring at the moonbeam which was always there for me when I was willing to see it. (It turns out the moonbeam could be in more than one place at once, which I should have said before, but I guess I'm saying it now.)

I was standing there, wishing I had the courage to be curious again, wishing that The Old Barn was bigger, big enough to be what it was meant to be, to do what it was meant to do, and hold all that it was meant to hold, when Wise Owl Eyes touched my arm. Outta nowhere. Not like a ghost, though. That comparison doesn’t work here.

“Try my glasses,” they said.

And I did.

_____________

And just like that it cracked!

Ripped open THE TRUTH…

THE ROOF of The Old Barn

Split in TWO

And we FLEW

From Old Tiresome and UNQUESTIONED

to where Magic BECKONS…

where fairies, angels, saints, GNOMES

live in big, roomy, castle-mansion-starlight-HOMES…

where princes can be princesses, wear any FASHION...

so many things I’d never… well, I’d only IMAGINED.

And places I’d been told WEREN’T TRUE, that I didn’t... oh, but I did…

I knew that I KNEW.

Bad-smelling, cold, crusty, dark, sad, too-long-played songs stopped PLAYING

and new ones were sung as we flew

SAYING “Goodbye”

with the broke-down shack

disappearing BEHIND US

knowing…

finally knowing for certain

God could never live

(or just be called He)

in a one-room shed where no one could FIND US.

(for my dear own "Wise Owl Eyes," thanks for all the ways you continue to help me "Rip open THE TRUTH")