Last night, I became God’s greatest cheerleader. I know that sounds cheesy, but if you’d been watching me in my backyard, you’d understand the statement, and probably have a good laugh at my expense.

Clouds hung heavy in the sky. snuffing out the stars and moon in a blanket of greyness.  Two of my children bounced on our trampoline, their eyes glued to the East as if their attention would convince the moon to show. Another one of my children lay in bed, fighting an upset stomach.  I stood on the deck, deep in conversation with God.  “You made the sands on the beach, you formed the stars in the sky, you parted the sea, and you designed the moon itself….surely you could move the clouds so we can see the magnificence of your hand.”

My son piped up from our trampoline. “What are you doing?”

“Talking to myself and God.” I answered back.

“Perhaps we should pray.”

“Sure. I’d like that.” I responded.

In the dark, his small voice rose. “God, please move the clouds so we can see the moon.”

It was a simple prayer. To the point. Missing the clutter of a mind which battles legalistic thoughts and guilt-filled thinking. A smile tugged on my heart. “Thank you.”

But an internal battle warred in my mind. and my thoughts grew fearful. I realize that asking to see the moon is a selfish prayer, especially when one of my children is lying in bed feeling sick. You know I’d rather you heal him. If you only answer one prayer tonight, please help him to feel better. I can do without the moon. And there are bigger issue in the world I should be praying about. People are dying. Families are grieving. Loved one’s are hurting. The guilt in my thoughts silenced my internal voice and I no longer spoke. It was true, the issues in the world did outweigh my simple desire to see the moon…if you viewed the issues from a human perspective. But to God, all things matter. For like the moon, he is beyond the world in which we live. He sees all things at once, holds everything in his hands, delights in the good, and sorrows with us in our pain.

The reminder brought me back to life, and my internal dialogue recovered. Heal my son. Provide peace for the suffering. Resurrect the dying. Hold us all in the palm of your hand. For you number the sand along the shore and the stars in the sky, you power the tide, and you renew the morning every day. 

For an hour and a half I watched and waited on my deck, searching overhead for a speck of light.

Below me, my son and daughter continued to jump, dunking hoops into our trampoline with much delight, glorying in their dark night play. At 10:00 PM, they decided they’d had enough, and went to bed.

In the dark, I stood alone. “I know you can do this.” My voice was not manipulative. It was not a name it and claim it response, for I don’t believe that’s how God works. Rather, it was me reveling in the understanding that I really did believe he could do it. Whether he chose to or not, remained to be seen.

At 10:30, I almost gave up. ALMOST. I moved the tripod into the house, took apart my camera, and locked the doors. Sitting down on the couch, I resigned myself to watching the eclipse on television.

My phone beeped. It was a text from my mother-in-law telling me to go outside and see the moon.

My Facebook page sent me an alert. My friends were posting, “Go outside and see the moon.”

So I stood up, unlocked the doors, and stepped outside. From one end of the house to the other I walked, studying the sky.

I saw nothing. Not even a hint of the moon.  But to the West, a huge swath of dark blue promised clarity. Excitement rose within me. My inner voice began to cheer. God, I know you can do this. You can sweep the clouds across the sky. They are but dust next to the power of your hand.

The full eclipse was promised to occur at 10:47.

It was 10:45.

“You can do it God. I know you can.” My excitement grew as I watched the clouds wear thin before my eyes. Patches of clear sky began to appear.

A hint of red oozed through a slit in the clouds. My heart jumped and a wide smile cracked my face.

Drifting further, the clouds shifted.

In one glorious moment, the moon shone forth. A full, red orb of beauty.

Hope.

Awe.

Wonder.

The moon reflected God’s glory.

Running into the house, I turned my back on the moon, hollering for my husband to get up out of bed to see the eclipse.

He staggered outside and blinked up at the cloudy sky. “Where is it?”

“Just wait,” I promised. “It will come back.”

The moon slipped out of its hiding place.

“You brought me out of bed for this?” He rolled his eyes.

To him the moon looked small, its red beauty but a dot in the sky, insignificant in the scheme of things. But he didn’t understand. The conversation. The timing. The gift. The beauty. The magnificence. For I hadn’t yet shared my story.

With an amused grin, he shook his head and reentered the house.

Alone again, I did a happy dance. I shook my hands above my head as I hurrahed the moment. I did another happy dance. And then I stared in awe, as I took it all in. The moon in its full glory.

God swept aside the clouds like dust. He revealed the workmanship of his hands. All for my pleasure and awe. And so I marveled at his creation, I pondered at its beauty, and I basked in the vastness of his great love.