On the Common 118
"There's a little black spot on the sun today."
Hello readers,
The house across the street from us has an evening ritual. When their young daughter goes to bed, they turn on a go-to-sleep light for her.
This is a very kind and lovely thing to do for your little children.
However, something about her go-to-sleep light makes it look like she’s hosting a rave in her bedroom every night.
I was just noticing. Carry on.
The Part Where There’s an Essay: Totality
As the time approached, the bugs began landing on the white sheet we had laid out. They were coming to rest, perceiving the increasing dusk as evening.
The hens in the next-door neighbors’ flock went into the coop and quieted.
And then, finally, the tiny sliver of sun disappeared and a different light emerged, first in the shape of a diamond ring, and then a perfect circle of bluish-silver. I’ve yet to see a picture that captures what I saw with my eyes.
I heard one scientist describe these events as easily predicted because “the system is like a Swiss clock.” High praise indeed. It’s true, though: if you missed this one, you can put the next one on your calendar right now. It’s what we did seven years ago when our home in Charlotte reached almost–but not full–totality. We wanted to see it all.
To our shame, the map of Indiana, where my husband grew up, is sometimes a source of mockery for us. It’s so flat and so square. When we showed the map to our daughter, who is in the early stages of learning to drive, she chuckled and made fun. “It’s so boring!” she laughed. We told her that when she missed the turn, she’d be happy about that grid, laid out perfectly square, reliable, and repetitive. Like a Swiss clock.
The flat square nature of Indiana, during the eclipse, became something we instead experienced as a circle. As we turned to look around during totality, there was a sunset on every side. It surrounded us. What usually occurred in the West was everywhere, just for three minutes.
It was quiet. For a moment, we stopped talking. Amazed chatter turned into stilled awe.
The accuracy was perhaps the most stunning thing to me. My husband is a precision engineer. His job deals in microns; his work is sub-molecular in size. Any imperfection, any miss, sends ripples of error through his end product. The machine cannot miss, or they will need to throw the piece out and start again. It needs to be precise and reliable–like a Swiss clock.
I thought about how the eclipse could have been different if it were poorly designed or poorly executed. We could be in the dark for just a second; we could be in the dark for a terrifying, long amount of time. But instead: just a few minutes. Just a reminder of our smallness; just a reminder of how we are cared for, hemmed in, and tended by the God who sees and sustains. And then, back to business as usual.
The diamond on the ring reemerged on the other side. The chickens came out of the coop noisily, clucking their protest at having to wake again. And the clock ticked on.
For the Anglophiles
I may have posted this story before, but I find it fascinating, so forgive me if it’s a rerun. Did you know that there’s a tiny piece of US soil in the UK?
Reads & Listens of the Week
One game show podcast that I revisit from time to time is Says You!, which was a local Boston show when it was airing live in the 90s. To further age myself, I will tell you that David and I used to listen to it on our local NPR station after A Prairie Home Companion. It’s the nerdiest thing you may ever hear. You will either love it or despise it.
Last weekend I was helped by a visit to the HopeWords Writers’ Conference in Bluefield, West Virginia. Here’s a write-up from the local paper about it.
I enjoyed this documentary about comedian Mike Birbiglia’s process of writing and crafting a show: Good One: A Show About Jokes. I think Mike is one of our finest storytellers. (Not for children)
“My yoke is kindly and my burden light” (Matt. 11:30). Every other burden oppresses you and feels heavy, but Christ’s burden lifts you up; any other burden is a crushing weight, but Christ’s burden has wings. Not only can you make it home; you can fly.
― James K.A. Smith, On the Road with Saint Augustine
I’ve heard “Says you” on our local NPR! I guess I’m nerdy enough to say I really like it 😁.