Total Eclipse

   "What I (Jesus) tell you in the darkness, shout abroad when daybreak comes. What I whisper in your ear, shout from the housetops for all to hear!" Matthew 10:27

  A song came on the radio at work and I was instantly transported to a place and time that passed long ago. It's a memory absent of trauma or hurt but it is one that comes to the forefront of my consciousness regularly. I don't know why I remember it but there is something about it that needs exploring.

  It happened in my late teens while at a party on a rural property. It was long before I knew the Lord. The music was loud, conversations were loud, bolstered by free flowing beer. The bonfire crackled, wafting smoke and sparks into the night sky. 

  How is it, sometimes, when being in a crowd is the loneliest of times?  I decided to stretch my legs and get away from the noise for a bit. I walked to the edge of the property just as the song from yesterday started playing.

  And this is what I saw:

  A freshly turned field stretched into the horizon, glistening, the only way a heavy dew can glisten under a full moon. The mathematically precise mounds and shadows laid down by a plough drew the eye to the other side of the field. A farm house and farm buildings complete with silos became the focal point of the field's perspective. It was generic sight made special by a few gold lit windows in the house and a yard light that bathed it in a golden glow. The few trees around it were black silhouettes against the bright, night sky.

  At my feet, where turned earth met the field boundary, a chaotic swirl of bent and crushed grass became a kaleidoscope of shadow and sparkle and silver. In the midst of this, a wooden toolbox lay on its side, discarded and forgotten. It was a long, slender box with carefully formed sides that extended up. A wooden dowel the size of a broom handle had been worked to fit across the top, It was the kind of box that would bear the weight of many tools. The worn and smooth solidity of it was at odds with the ethereal, transient quality of the surrounding grasses. 

  Pat Benetar's "Total Eclipse of the Heart" played on. My soul connected with the lyrics in a way that some songs can make you do. In the deep aloneness of being, I hungered for something more. I believed in something more: a Something greater than I. I just didn't know their name.

  As I sang the lyrics in my mind, they became transformed into a prayer, a cry to this wonderful, life giving Something who made a moment lit by a full moon unforgettable.

  The man I was dating at the time came over to get me, to bring me back to the party. I tried to share how much the view had touched my heart, wanting him to see it like I had. He was more interested in getting another beer, in being in the midst of the noise and chaos. 

  I reluctantly turned away from a place I could have stood in forever.

  Over the next two decades, I carried the longing and the unshakeable belief in a great Something. It would rise up from a forgotten corner of my heart when I was enthralled by the aloneness of being. 

  Until I learned His name. Now, in the priceless, magical, beautiful moments of being, I am not alone any more. And I remember this place, not with a questioning heart but with the understanding that in that moment at the side of an unknown farmer's field, faith was born.