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About Southern cross. (Savannah, Ga.) 1963-2021 | View Entire Issue (Sept. 14, 2017)
r Southern Cross, Page 4 Columns Finding glory in a moon shadow Thursday, September 14, 2017 Q C\\ 7e haven’t figured out how V V to cover the half-moon win dow in the sitting room,” Magan said perplexed as I drove home for lunch Monday afternoon. When I arrived a few moments later, I walked into a nearly pitch-black setting, with blankets, sheets and towels taped to the casing of every window including the half-moon one in our sitting room. To top it all off, every small child, save Isaac, was holed up in the cavern that had been our master bedroom a few hours earlier, while Isaac sat in his sister’s crib in a darkness he had only known once before during his 10-month stay in the mommy motel one year earlier. The only things missing from this feigned apocalyptic preparation were gallons of water and loaves of bread to outlast the blind zombies that were about to be created after they, and not we, stared at the total solar eclipse without prescription-strength glasses acquired from the local library giveaway. “I don’t think a little light getting through the cracks is going to cause anyone to go blind,” I said in Magan’s direction, but she was having none of my satire. “Well, at least we know for sure nobody’s eyes will get hurt,” she replied. The big boys continued to try out their glasses indoors, which made the already dark surroundings completely inky, and Noah showed off his creation—a single lens from a pair of eclipse glasses taped to a box—designed to allow him to capture footage of the eclipse without damaging his camera. I went about my lunch hour the same as I had most others: eating a peanut but ter and jelly sandwich and watching TV. Like Noah, I had come up with a sim ilar plan to capture the eclipse for work, setting up shop at Our famous football stadium with multiple remote cameras set for time-lapse video capture. Then the clouds came. “Well, we’ve still got an hour before the big show,” I said to myself, “so it’s still fine.” Then the clouds got darker, and more numerous. This one project—between its plan ning and implementation—had taken up my entire day and, by the looks of things, it was all going to be for naught. Every five minutes or so I would head back outside from the field house to check on the weather, only to find darker clouds covering the one piece of sky I needed to be open in order to capture this once-in-a-lifetime event. “We looked at it. You can see it now,” Magan said in a text, which I followed with, “This stinks.” Magan continued to report back from the housebound viewing party with, “It was about one-third of the way and we could see it move!” I had all but given up hope when our football coach hollered from the other side of the building, “Jason, here it is. Come look.” I hastily ran to the front door with my single-lens pair of eclipse glasses and, lo and behold, there was the half-covered sun as it wrapped up its celestial square dance with our closest space neighbor. A review of my footage showed that the eclipse had been regularly poking through the clouds the entire time, except during my quick peaks outside. I had seen what I had wanted to see—or didn’t want to see, in this case, clouds—instead of what was actually there, the eclipse. As Christians, we are taught to look for signs of God’s work in our lives. How many times, though, do we allow our own perceptions to interfere or, like the moon, “block” the Light from reach ing our hearts and minds? “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own under standing,” (Proverbs 3:5) is such a sim ple command, but we habitually fail to heed its call. While the whole event hadn’t kicked off the blind zombie apocalypse or marked New Jerusalem descending from the sky, it was a reminder that we should let go of our own assumptions when it comes to searching for signs from our Maker that could actually be hiding in plain sight. Jason Halcombe has five sons and a DAUGHTER. He AND HIS WIFE, MAGAN, ARE MEMBERS OF IMMACULATE CONCEPTION Church, Dublin. Jesus, I trust in You P aul and I take a regular walk with our dog Bentley. We have a route through our neighborhood where we see lots of our neighbors doing their regular things, too. We start off saying good morning to my dad next door, who has a prayer time on his front porch every day. Farther up the street we see our friend Frank. Frank has a miniature fluffy dog named Zoey who thinks she is a mastiff. There is Marie, who walks the family dog while listening to podcasts or praying the rosary, and Mr. C, whose dog Hoss was in dog obedience with Bentley. (Hoss got some kind of lifetime achievement award at the end of class, or maybe it was most improved, I can’t remember.) And then there are Joyce and Craig, a couple whose youngest child just graduated high school. That family tends to have one or two people hanging out on their front porch on a regular basis, at least during the summer months. Often it’s the two of them chatting with one of their kids, and I love seeing them hang ing out like that. I love it so much, in fact, that I recent ly found myself getting a little envious. Not envious so much as wistful. I wish we had a porch like that, I thought, so we could hang out with our kids. Unfortunately, as my overactive brain is prone to do, that thought turned into “we need a porch to hang out on so we can have the important talks with children that parents must have...” and suddenly my simple observation turned into anxiety. It’s not enough to notice and admire how that family spends time together, I need to recreate it... or else. The “or else” can be a problem — especially when we start to realize that every single person in this world is different. And if every single person is different, it stands to reason that every family will be different. There are no two families alike, and happy, holy fami lies come in all shapes and sizes. That realization stopped me in my tracks, and God did something wonder ful for me, in the midst of my journey towards comparison and fear. Instead of going further down the rabbit hole of all the things I’m not doing, God flooded me with peace. That was it, just peace. A few days later, Paul and I were sitting outside while he grilled dinner. Elliott came outside and started shooting hoops and the three of us had a simple, beautiful conversation about school and the future and everything in between. And in that moment, I realized — God meets us where we are. Instead of a front porch to sit and chat, God has provided us with a basketball court — because that’s where a Balducci boy is comfortable. Instead of focusing on all the ways others are doing it (which is good— inspiration is important), we have to remember that God will give us every thing we need. That we need, each individual family. Family charisms vary as greatly as DNA, and what one family will find joy in doing will look different from another. True peace and joy comes from remembering to trust in God’s love. To trust in God’s wisdom and care. We have to remember all the ways God has us covered in his love. He knows the desires of our hearts — to raise strong men and women to know, love and serve him — and he will give us the tools and opportunities we need to get the job done. “Jesus, I trust in you.” It’s a prayer. It’s a safety net. It’s a reality check. Jesus, I give you every area of my life — my heart, my mind, my children, even my schedule! Bless us, bless me and help me see that you are with me every step of the way. Rachel Swenson Balducci is a freelance WRITER AND MEMBER OF MOST HOLY TRINITY Church, Augusta. 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