A Break In The Darkness

I have a little eclipse story to tell.

My husband and I were lucky enough to live within driving distance of the path of totality, where the moon would completely blot out the sun.  As soon as I found that out, I decided we were going to have to make a day of it and drive north to see THE REAL THING.  I perused blogs and astronomy websites; I purchased multiple sets of eclipse glasses (after the first set turned out to be fake - thanks Amazon); I had happy daydreams about laying out in the sun in a green field, slowly watching the moon eat the sun, and then perfectly witnessing all of the crazy things happen during a total eclipse.  I was especially excited to see the eclipse itself.  I badgered my husband into taking the day off.  We may never get to see this again!  It will be amazing and it's only a few hours away!  Pleeeeeeeeease.  Pleaseplease.  

The night before, I checked the forecast one last time and found to my dismay that essentially everyone in the path of totality was going to have a spotty view of the eclipse except people living just east of the Rockies, which we do not.  Weather in our town was meant to be perfect, but of course without the chance to view all of the amazing phenomena that come with a complete eclipse.  My husband and I talked it over and decided to take the chance.  Better to potentially see THE REAL THING than to definitely not see it.

Cut to the morning of.  We left late, first of all, which - although I'm not a very nervous person - sent my nerves through the roof.  It's not like the moon is going to hold off on beginning the meeting because there are still some stragglers coming in.  Then the clouds started gathering as we drove.  At first it was just some cheerful light clumps, but after a couple of hours it was clear we were heading into a storm system.  My husband got one glimpse of the very beginning of the eclipse while we were on the road.  Then, nothing.  Clouds.

My pastor recently had been teaching us about improbable prayers.  He pointed out that in Acts when Peter was headed for execution, the church prayed for his release and he was indeed broken out of prison by an angel.  When he showed up at the house where they'd been praying, they were amazed!  His point was this: pray for things so incredible that if they happen, you will be shocked.  Pray for improbable things.  Give God that chance.

Well, why not, I thought.  Driving that morning, every time I looked up at the dense cloud cover, I prayed.  I know this isn't particularly important, Lord, but please.  Please clear the weather so we can view this spectacle.  In fact, clear it so everyone can view it.  Please make a way in this.

And you know what happened?  It started raining.  Yeah.  Raining.  On and off for the last hour or so of the drive, it sprinkled and poured by turns.  We didn't see another glimpse of the sun that entire time.  I kept praying but my mood gradually soured.  Come on, God, please?  Let everyone see the eclipse during totality, including us!  Matt kept an eye on the radar, but there was no chance that we could outrun the huge bank of clouds in the region, no chance that we could cut east or west and find a clear spot within our little slice of totality.  We were stuck.  So we kept to the original plan, although there was no happiness in it for me anymore.

When we got to the park I'd chosen, it was dark, cold, and wet.  The rain had settled into a steady light shower.  There was no way to tell if the appearance of things was from the storm or the developing eclipse, but you can guess what my suspicions were.  We found a low hill with good visibility only because Matt insisted.  I was ready to sit in a low parking lot and read a bloody book just to spite the stupid eclipse and the rain and the day and everything.  I pulled out my knitting, for goodness' sake, because why not?  There was nothing to see.  I can see clouds and rain whenever I want.  There was certainly no way to appreciate anything else.

I let myself talk to God about the whole endeavor one last time.  I asked you for such a little thing, God.  I've been looking forward to this for weeks and You know that.  You couldn't have given me this?  Thanks a lot.

Matt opened the car door.  "Get out.  You can see the sky, Zoe, get out of the car."  Well, duh, I thought.  Of course you can see the sky; you can always see the sky.  I want to see the sun.  But I abruptly got sick of my own bad mood and decided to play at being a good sport.  I got out of the car and peered up into the rain.  Sure enough, there was an odd-looking dark grey patch briefly visible through the clouds.  Matt nudged me.  "I think that is blue sky."  The more I looked, the more I thought he must be right.  

It got darker all of a sudden.  Darker.  Then, still darker.  A cold wind blew across the hill.  People started to murmur, wow, so cool, how about this.  Suddenly the horizon looked like it was on fire - all the most amazing sunset colors at once, spread out in all directions.  Diffused as it was through cloud cover and distant rainfall, the effect was especially mysterious.  Crickets started chirping and all the birds landed.  I grudgingly thought, okay God, this is pretty cool.  Thanks for this at least.  

Then people started screaming. 

I mean really screaming, in a way that was frightening and seemed out of their control.  We heard more screaming from across the park and even, faintly, the nearby town.  I realised everyone was pointing up.  And there, right overhead, the dense clouds had cleared perfectly in the right spot for us to have a great view of the total solar eclipse.  We got to see about thirty seconds of perfect corona leading into the diamond ring signaling the end of totality.  It was uniquely beautiful and unsettling in a way that eludes description.  We all felt a brief, hot wash of sunlight as totality truly ended.  Then the clouds closed up again.

I cried, of course.  Not at the eclipse itself, although it is something I will remember for the rest of my life.  I cried because God reminded me that a faith that endures is one that endures to the end of hope, through the disappointment and rain, trusting that there will be a break in the darkness.  He could have whisked all of the clouds away and left us with a "perfect" cloudless sky and the chance to see the entire eclipse process without interruption.  He chose not to.  But did He not answer my prayer (and surely the hopeful prayers of many others) in spectacular fashion and in a way that imprinted the event into our minds forever?  Cold, darkness, and rain!  A sense that time was running out!  Then - the clouds opening!  A perfect glimpse of THE REAL THING!  The return of the warmth of the sun!  End scene.  

Amazing.  Never doubt God created the concept of dramatic tension.

I am really sorry that I gave up on God answering my prayer too early.  And how kind of Him to package my subtle rebuke as a rare, beautiful gift and reminder of His faithfulness and majesty. 

The lesson is this: if He cares enough and is powerful enough to even just move the clouds so we can see something cool, how much more able and willing is He to help with the things that truly matter?  At the same time, when I pray that He would get rid of all the clouds and give me a nice sunny sky, I have to remember that often that is not His way, because when He does that I learn nothing and do not grow.  I thought that day that THE REAL THING was having good weather and seeing the full eclipse.  But in this, as in all things, that was just a cipher for what the Lord was truly doing for me that day - teaching me to trust Him more and being willing to risk disappointment and loss based on that trust.