Did You See It?

“Did you see it? the little boy asked as he rode past me on his bike.

He was probably wondering what I was doing, staring at a muddy puddle on the pavement.  For the record, I was trying to line my eclipse glasses with my phone and take a picture of the eclipse reflected in the puddle.

It was complicated and I didn’t have enough hands, and the boy was probably wondering why I was staring at the ground when clearly the action was in the sky.

I’m sure he had tales to tell about the crazy lady who had just moved in to the new house.

There are a number of kids in my neighborhood, the most I have ever seen anywhere I have lived in my adult life. 

Over the last week, twice kids have run up to my front door, banged on it loudly and then run away.

And yes, it’s startling, scary and annoying but at the same time I can’t help but smile—I feel like I’ve been officially welcomed to the neighborhood.  I also have a feeling I might have to provide full bars on Halloween or risk being pranked the rest of my life here.

I absolutely love the small town feeling of the neighborhood.  There is the corner store about a block and a half away and I see people walking to and from that store, carrying their bags of goodies, all day throughout the day.

It makes me remember the cigar store in the town I grew up in.  I used to go there all the time as a kid—not for the cigars, but for the candy and comic books.  I love how my new neighborhood stirs up such happy memories from my childhood.

The thing that I love most about my new house, though, might surprise people who know me.

I love my kitchen island.

Which might sound strange given that except for frying up or scrambling eggs, I don’t cook.

And I don’t sit at the island to eat.

So what makes it so special to me?

I love it as a worktable.  I have put bookcases together up there and barstools.  I love that I can spread stuff out on it.

I love that I can create.

Yesterday, I finished working on this small sideboard, cabinet for the kitchen/dining room.  I had bought it from an antique store back in September for fairly cheap—it was no antique.  At the time, the orangish tint to the laminate matched the kitchen cabinets in my apartment, but in my new kitchen, that same orangish tint was garish and clashed with the gray-white hues.

So on Monday, during the eclipse, I took the sideboard outside and spraypainted it with a gray chalk paint.  And yesterday, I set the drawers to the sideboard up on my kitchen island and set to fixing them up with a gray and white peel and stick wallpaper. 

How did it turn out?

Well, it was my first time trying something like this, so it definitely looks a bit rough, but it looks worlds better than it did and, most importantly, I had fun doing it. 

I love creating.

Most of the time, my creating takes the form of poetry and essays and novels.  I create when I take pictures and photography is something that fills me.  But I also occasionally create in other ways like with painting.

There are so many ways to be creative and I think we’re all drawn to creating because it’s one way that brings us closer to God.

God, being the Creator, the original Creative.

Whether we’re in the garden or baking cakes—I have a friend who makes door wreathes as a hobby—whatever it is, when we are being creative, we are emulating God in the best possible way.

This past Monday, during the eclipse, we got to see God, the Creator, in all His mouth-dropping, soul-stirring, tear-inducing, heart-stopping glory. 

I honestly didn’t expect to get so emotional as the world got darker.

I began—what I call—dry-sobbing.  No tears, but a deep catch in my lungs every time I took a breath, a sort of spiritual hiccup. 

There were kids laughing and shouting in the background.  The birds were hopping from tree to tree, chattering and singing to each other.  I imagine even the flowers paused for a moment and said, “Wait, which way should we be looking for the sun?”

The lights came on at the church across the street.

I texted with friends.

I hopped on Social Media.

Later I turned on the news.

In that time of the eclipse, all of us, all around the country, engaged in a moment of creation.

We were, all of us, creating a moment, creating a memory and then doing what you’re supposed to do when you create—sharing it with others.

And it was glorious and hope-filled. 

That little boy on the bike that asked me if I had seen the eclipse shared another wise observation.

“The sun is setting,” he said to me.

It was how he made this strange thing of the sun going dark in the middle of the day make sense in his head.

The sun is setting.

For roughly three minutes during totality, day and night coexisted.  They shared the same space together.

Three minutes.

The sky was dark.

Three minutes.

Three days.

The world was figuratively in the darkest night between crucifixion and resurrection.

The sun had set.

The Son, Jesus Christ, had died.

And on the third day, that stone moon rolled away from the tomb, and let the light of the risen Son, shine upon us.

Isn’t God amazing?

Isn’t He just brilliant?

And it will get even more amazing in the coming weeks.

Pentecost is coming.

Amen.