The last couple weeks of Lent have been unchurched. It has
not necessarily been a conscious decision NOT
to go, but it also has not been a conscious decision TO go. Although I like to be disciplined in my practices, I have
found that the unexpected and organic happenings in my life tend to be the most spiritual.
I
had just swallowed some melatonin to aid my sleep last night when I remembered
the total lunar eclipse that was scheduled to occur in the wee hours of the
morning. I said a small and silent
prayer that I would hear my parents as they roused and layered in preparation
to stand out front and look at the darkened sky. A tiny miracle happened in
that I did in fact hear them. I immediately jumped out of bed, that’s quite a
feat at any hour of the day, knowing that if I did not get up at that exact
moment I would allow myself to fall back to sleep and miss the eclipse.
Throwing
a sweater on over my jammies, I burst outside where my parents and I searched
the clouded sky for any signs of the moon. Slowly, the clouds uncovered the
eclipsed moon and we just stood there, heads craned upward with binoculars
stuck to our faces, starring at the awesome wonder that is God’s handiwork.
I
am still chuckling that the Blood Moon happened the night that Passover began.
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