A matter of perspective

There was a lunar eclipse last night.  I heard about it on the news -- it was supposed to be spectacular and it was supposed to be visible close to dawn.

I didn't have any intention of staying up for the eclipse, let alone going outside in the freezing cold to watch it, but when 4:00 rolled around and I was still up, I figured "what the heck."

I bundled up in my coat and mittens, but I didn't want to bother with socks and shoes, so I put on my soccer slides.  Even though there was still a little bit of snow on the sidewalk, I didn't think it would bother me since my jeans are fairly long.

The sky was totally clear and the stars were incredibly bright in spite of the streetlights and porch lights in the neighborhood.  The moon was huge and full, a beautiful silvery-white against the velvety navy of the sky.  Even though it was around 7 degrees, I felt reasonably warm.

I stared at the moon for awhile.  Unfortunately I didn't see any sign of a change that could be attributed to an eclipse.  When I began to grow cold, I decided that it would be a good idea to go inside and go to bed.  Eclipses are much more fun in warmer weather.

Yet as I lingered for a little while longer, I thought about how I had initially been warm when I first gazed up at the sky but soon the cold penetrated my warm coat and mittens.  What about people who don't have warm winter clothing?  What about men and women, and sometimes even children, who aren't able to return to a house with a working furnace?  G and I keep our furnace set fairly low for economical reasons, but our house is still relatively warm.  Some homeless people take shelter in their car each night or sneak into abandoned buildings.  Others hide behind garbage dumpsters to escape the worst of the wind and snow.

Do those people ever look up at the moon and marvel at the beauty that God placed in the sky?  Or are they too focused on trying to keep warm -- struggling to survive -- to be able to afford the luxury of gazing at the moon and the stars that illuminate the heavens?

For me, the early morning interlude in the frigid air was invigorating as I enjoyed God's handiwork of moon glow and starlight.  Yet I suspect my perspective on the scene would have been different if I wasn't fortunate enough to be able to scurry back to the comfort of a heated home and an electric blanket.

This morning I read in the Tribune that the eclipse was outstanding on the west coast and in parts of Asia.  The moon turned from light orange to bright red as the eclipse coincided with sunrise.  The pictures I've seen are impressive, but I'm sure they can't begin to compare to the experience of seeing it unfold in person.  

My eclipse experience was quite likely different from that of a Chicago observer who spends their life on the street night after night, no matter the weather or season.  And my experience was also very different from someone thousands of miles away from me who watched the brilliantly silver moon  grow both shadowy and colorful as the earth passed between it and the sun.

This eclipse, like so much of life, was a matter of perspective.