the moon over a grocery store parking lot

last night i made a late night run to the grocery.  since having littles, i rarely go grocery shopping at night and rarely ever go to the store alone.  and had i not been alone last night, i might not have noticed the night sky like i did.
the moon's simultaneously soft and piercing white was like a magnet to my eyes when i walked out of the store.  i couldn't stop staring at it.  and the stars, like perfect pinpricks revealing an immense light beyond a black blanket of sky, reminded me of other nights that held my gaze upward and beckoned me to be fully awake to the presence of their Creator.
i remembered nights when matt and i rode our bicycles home to a little apartment and how the cold air stung our cheeks while the stars hung over our heads and told us how good it was to be alive.   i remembered finally falling asleep under the stars in the backcountry of north carolina, after staying awake too long because it was just too beautiful to not look at.   i remembered gazing up at the sky on distant coasts...
and last night my gaze was from the grocery store parking lot in the middle of suburbia.  the glare of street lights, fast food signs and the task of getting groceries home tempted me to not notice.  but He was there.  the same God who made those stars and moon that hung so brilliantly over my head last night was there.  the same one i remember praising as i rode my bike alongside my husband in crisp german night air, the same one who was in the breathtaking wonder of starlight over mountains in north carolina and the one who was so clearly present on every sand-covered coast i've set foot on.  and there, in the grocery store parking lot, He was beckoning me to remember more than the memories of night skies seen.  He wanted me to remember Him.  His steady, unchanging love overwhelmed me in those few minutes of standing with my hands full of groceries.
and this morning, as i remember the sky last night, i remember Him again.  the one who is so full of abundant grace that he reminds me he is in the little things, not only in a moment of obvious beauty and brilliance,  but in the little tasks that fill my days: wiping a runny nose, helping a little baby go to sleep, and walking out of a suburban grocery store, exhausted with my hands full of groceries and my gaze pulled up into His beauty.