No Whole World Flood

A lovely promise, especially for those in the mid-west. We had a quick thunder shower, followed by the sun setting. The rainbow was full, double and vivid. By the time I got home, this was all that was left--still there, but only half as vivid.



At one point, the bypass where I was driving lined up with the end of the arc. I felt like Dorothy about to travel over the rainbow, and kept wondering why nobody else was leaning forward over their steering wheel to take in more of the beauty. Is the car such a public place that everyone has to put on the New York indiference look? I mean, that rainbow was spectacular! It deserved a reaction--at least a second glance. People pick their noses in cars--can't they stare in awe at rainbows? Well, I didn't let the cool factor get to me. I kept gawking until I could pull to the side of the road in my neighborhood and snap a few shots and a movie. Even there some neighbors walked by and literally laughed at me.

What can I say--I'm just not cool when it comes to natural wonders.

Truncated

I had to look up the word online--no dictionary for me: it just takes too long. T-r-u-n-c-a-t-e-d. Basically, it means, "to cut off".

My alarm clock is running slow and the battery needs to be replaced, but I haven't done it yet. I would have set my alarm for 5:15 this morning. Since I didn't have that option I didn't sleep well. Popcorn helped with that. He was up at 1:30 to go to the bathroom. Nope, not time to get up yet. So I hit the hay until 5:20--not a bad internal alarm clock. Then I rushed downstairs to the back deck to watch the show. It had already begun.

There in the southern sky was a partially eclipsed full moon--a redish yellow, from the Earth's penumbra. The sultry August humidity probably added to that. I watched as it crept from top to bottom, making a u-shaped crescent, not the usual c-shape.

As I watched this phenomenon an airplane took off and whined across the sky. I wondered if the people aboard noticed what was going on outside their windows. When the moon was 3/4 eclipsed, I heard a neighbor talking on a cell phone and leaving in his car. I noticed the nearby highway noise get louder. Birds started their morning routine. Everything around me began waking. But in that noise, the silent procession continued, undaunted and steady.

Finally, around 6:15, the whole thing disappeared. I watched for a while longer as the bit of outlining glow still hung, knowing that if I hadn't seen the place where it disappeared, I never would have been able to locate that fragment. Then it was entirely gone.

I sat there and waited, watching for about 15 minutes and wondering if I should wake Gem for the reappearing, but not wanting to miss it just because I was trying to resurrect a lifeless body. In that waiting time I marveled at the fact that the full moon was right there, but just in shadow. I thought of how God is like that: He's very much there, but not visible. No wonder he said, "Blessed are those who believe in me, yet do not see." It was hard for me to believe that the full moon was still hanging right where it had been.

Right now, the moon is coming out of that shadow, but I'm in front of my computer because my view of the eclipse was TRUNCATED by the sunrise. Yep, even the sun didn't wait around to watch the re-emerging. If my brother got up for the show (Washington State), he is probably watching it re-emerge right now.

It puts the awe of God in you and a measure of perspective on time. We run around so quickly, trying to accomplish so much, yet time and space march on, doing their dance until God truncates it all, makes us all STOP and take notice, and gives us the greatest show ever--His appearing. He's there right now, just in shadow. "Now we see dimly, as in a mirror. Then we shall see Him face to face." 1 Cor. 13. What joy there will be when we see that show.