Ahhhhh the first day of Daylight Savings Time. Nothing like a nice quiet Sunday morning to soak up an extra hour of sleep under the warm toasty electric blanket. So why am I standing on a beach at 6:10 a.m. when it’s just barely light, windy and maybe 30 degrees?! Because there was a solar eclipse at sunrise this morning and I really, really wanted to see it. So there I was in sandals no less because tying sneakers would take too long this morning.

I got to the beach a few minutes before the best viewing time. It was there. It was magnificent. It was breathtaking and brilliant and it was awesome. It’s just that, well… I couldn’t see it. There were clouds and even though they’d lifted from the horizon, they still blocked the sun from view. There was one bright slit of light that peeked through the clouds. I knew exactly where that eclipse was happening and yet even with knowing when and where to look, I missed it. It was beyond the sight of my limited vantage point.

So after spending twenty minutes chatting with a couple of friends who were crazy enough to join me for a beach-at-dawn freeze fest, I gave up. The eclipse had come and gone. I headed off for my usual breakfast haunt. From the warmth of my car I watched the sunlight blaze from behind the clouds, lighting them up in purples and golds and casting a pink reflection on the water.

It occurred to me that I should be writing. It was quiet. I was wide awake. I had a whole day ahead of me with little that required any immediate attention. But I made no move to pick up the pen and notebook next to me. I know darn good and well where the next chapter of my novel takes me. There’s a great deal of darkness in it, and although it’s a work of fiction, it’s still a darkness I’m all too familiar with already. I experience what I write as I write it. You have to understand that as I recap this morning for you, I’m in wool socks, jeans and a hoodie, shivering despite sitting in front of a heating vent and sipping a hot cup of tea. So to write this chapter will take me back into places I don’t want to revisit. But…

There’s always a ‘But’ … But I came out the other side of that dark place. The whole time God was there working, beyond the sight of my limited vantage point. He was magnificent. He was breathtaking and brilliant and awesome. It’s just that, well… I couldn’t see it. In fact, there were times I wasn’t even sure He was there at all. And now…

And now, I know He’s there and always was there. To step back into that space, especially in such a limited scope shouldn’t scare me anywhere near as much as it does. I’m afraid of losing my improved but still limited vantage point. But there may well be a new one on the other side of the pages. Only one way to find out, I guess.

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