I personally am fascinated by planetal movement (ah, see where she gets the big words...). The thought of the earth blocking the sun from shining on the moon -- something it does night after night after night -- is riveting. Kind of creepy. Kind of cool. Kind of captivating.
Hitting a little closer to home, we got some difficult news yesterday. Though my Mom's surgery went well, the pathology report showed cancer cells in her lymph nodes, which means that she will undergo another surgery and then begin chemotherapy. Not news we wanted or expected. It was, for a few hours yesterday, like the sun had stopped shining on the moon, like a dark shadow had come over us.
A Total Eclipse.
The reality of being human is that there are moments when we lose hope. We lose our strength. And there are times when we are not the brave, valiant hero. Sometimes the darkness is overwhelming. Completely overwhelming.
Like tonight's moon.
But another reality is that tonight's moon didn't stay dark for very long. The light returned, gradually revealing that familiar shape, first as a little sliver, then inch by inch becoming the big, bright, full moon the evening had given us to begin with. I had seen it wane, and then I saw it wax (obviously I have been on wikipedia tonight...). And in my metaphorically-compulsive brain, and in my heart and in my gut, it was like the Maker of the moon and stars was showing me that darkness lasts only for a moment. And I felt His promise that light, hope, and wholeness would be restored.
All of that, sitting in my pink pajama pants on a chilly concrete step outside my house with the big dog curled up next to me.
I see the moon and the moon sees me. God bless the moon and God bless me.