Moonshadow

In high school, we got out of class to view a solar eclipse with the pinhole projectors we made in Science. I love that so many of us, as different as we were, actually wanted and tried to view the eclipse together.

My daughter won’t be in school for tomorrow’s eclipse, so I made a cereal box eclipse viewer for her. I’m sure she’ll find it as cool as I do. Eclipses are pretty cool… literallly! It actually gets cooler when the sun is obscured. (That’s the science nerd in me talking.)

One might get a little anxious when the world around us plunges into a dark, cold space. But during the eclipse, and always, I hope we can leap and hop on the moonshadow, because the faitfhful light will find us again.

Lyrics credit: Yusuf/Cat Stevens

Superlatives and Prophecies

At my high school, each graduating class would vote on who should receive the superlative titles of Class Clown, Most Talkative, and Best All Around, among others. I didn’t receive any superlative distinctions by my class. I should’ve been voted “Most Sure of Myself,” because I knew who I was and what I wanted in life. Even so, I was curious about what they (I assume the yearbook committee members were our prophets?) predicted for my future. I really just needed to make sure I’d been heard. And I had been. My Senior Prophecy was that I ‘will never pay off my chiropractor bills.’ It was a funny nod to the assumption that I would become a chiropractor – my career goal at that age – and would have a mountain of loans to pay off. What’s ironic is that I’m not a chiropractor, but I’m still paying bills for all of the chiropractic treatments I continue to receive, thanks to my exhausting life. I might now be superlative as “Most in Need of an Adjustment.” Somehow my Plan A disappeared, along with B and C, and now I’m on Plan D, which wasn’t a plan until about 6 years ago.

As the Yiddish proverb advises, “When you make plans, God laughs.”

As a kid, I had a grand plan. I knew what I wanted. I knew what was going to happen. I knew how old I’d be when I married and started a family, how many kids I’d have, what my career would be, even what my house would look like.

I wasn’t right about any of it. I’m now superlative at being “Most Gobsmacked.”

This revelation begs acceptance of what is, closely followed by a proposal to quit planning.

At church on epiphany Sunday, we all close our eyes and select a star from a basket. Each star has a word on it that we can contemplate for some time. My daughter chose “prophecy.” I chose “eagerness.” I nudged her in the pew and told her to hurry up and tell me what was coming my way. I couldn’t decipher her look; was she annoyed, or was she just thinking it best not to break the news?

I guess I’ll just have to be superlative as “Most Patient” and “Most Observant” for what is heading my way. I hope I don’t miss it while I’m busy making Plan E.