We’re two days away from the day with two dawns. A few days ago my mom called to remind me to make sure the kids do not look directly at the sun, and to make sure adults are helping them with their glasses at all times.
A couple weeks ago, a woman from our former congregation texted me to see if we’d ordered glasses. I told her I hadn’t bothered to order any, and that I just figured we’d wait until total coverage for a quick look.
She said she thought we’d better get some, just in case. You never know with kids, she said. A few days later our pastor asked us if we needed any glasses. He had ordered a ten-pack, and would only need two pairs.
They were legit, he said. I asked him where he got them from and he said he ordered them from Amazon. I told him I hadn’t ordered any, so if he had some extras and wanted to give them to us, that would be great.
Then I found out my mother-in-law had already ordered a ten pack of eclipse glasses for us. She’d ordered a pack online from somewhere, and then saw a Facebook article with a list of legit eclipse glasses companies.
The company she’d ordered from first wasn’t on the list. So she cancelled the first order, and ordered instead from one of the companies she’d seen in the article. They came, and we tested them out in the kitchen.
You couldn’t see the light. They were smaller than I expected, and I wasn’t expecting them to be so dark. If you think about it though, it makes sense. If you’re going to look at the sun with them on, they’d have to be dark.
We went shopping this afternoon to buy stuff for a picnic lunch. When we got home the two older boys wanted to go out to the pine forest with Arik. I didn’t want them to go. We’ve got plans to go see the eclipse in two days.
In the opening pages of Anthony Esolen’s book, How to Destroy the Imagination of Your Child, he wrote, “For my mother, Jane Esolen, who let me have a boy’s life.” I clung to those words as the boys ran off to the pine forest.
We’ve got our glasses squared away. We’ve got food and water for the car ride down. We’ve got thirty acres of private farm land for our family to come to thanks to a couple my husband married when we still lived farther south.
Lord willing, that’s where we’re headed tomorrow. He’s preaching for one of our former congregation’s 150th anniversary year services. I didn’t want to go. I still kind of don’t. I get really bad travel anxiety in the days before a trip.
That’s not why I didn’t want to go. It’s just hard to go back there. I can’t explain why, it just is. All these weird feelings get stirred up inside me, and yet, every time we’ve left, I find myself thankful for the time, and blessed for having gone.