A
lot of us, obviously (that’s kinder than “Well, duh!”), saw the eclipse
yesterday. We planned our days around it—been
planning it for years! At the bare
minimum, most folks were at least prepared with those special glasses. Some of us skipped that step. On a grander scale, there were plenty of
parties complete with thematic snacks of Moon Pies, Sun Drop sodas and shaded
Krispy Kreme donuts. Yes, right up there
with Thanksgiving, the eclipse was celebrated with the easy opportunity to eat
a lot and, hopefully, take a nap once it was all over.
I’ve
seen a couple eclipses before. I knew
the basics which I could expect. Shadow
and eerie light. Crescent shaped projections
in the shadows on the ground. There had
also been plenty of information from the experts on television and shared on
social media. Many people were well
prepared about what to expect, how it would happen and why it would happen a
certain way. All of that, however, was
only one big science project. There was
much more to see.
In
so many places, the eclipse was an occasion to have a party. There were plenty of gatherings of friends. Families got together and the eclipse became
enough of a distraction that they didn’t even fight with each other. It was interesting to me how an astronomical
event revealed a more heavenly phenomenon.
The
party I went to was unplanned. It just
kind of happened. Colleagues in the
church office slipped out the back door into the courtyard. We started watching together. Some church members were already waiting for
us, and more joined in. We were in awe
watching the moon passing in front of the sun.
We laughed at how silly we looked in our eclipse glasses, and then we
made someone else take our picture wearing them. We marveled at the shadows and the
light. Our experience of near totality
was greeted with smiles and laughter… and fellowship.
Back
the clock up a little more than one day.
As First Baptist Church of Augusta gathered to celebrate their 200th
anniversary, I coulnd’t help but notice how that happened. A large crowd was anticipated. I showed up expecting to see people selfishly
jostling for the good seats in the
sanctuary and saving seats for their families and friends. I even expected to see some folks in a huff
that others were sitting in their spots.
I looked around. I was blessed to
see something different. In the
pre-prelude moments, I saw clusters of church people clogging up the aisles… visiting with each other! Friends who hadn’t seen each other in a while
were catching up, and hugging and taking photos together. This was happening all over the room. I pointed it out to my pastor who labeled
what was happening with this beautiful and immediate deduction, “That’s what’s
supposed to happen every Sunday.”
It
happened again on Monday. As the moon
was blocking out the sun, you couldn’t help but see the light of the world.
