I woke up disappointed. It was too late. I’d missed the totality... by too many minutes. I’d slept hard through alarms, memories of wrestling with the noise and tiny “x” buttons in my sleepy confusion.
As I rushed downstairs to see the evidence of my blunder, old scripts surfaced in familiar ways.
You failed.
You can’t handle things.
You fumble everything.
The disappointment twisted into something strange. Not sharp like rage, but heavier than irritation. As I crossed the threshold of my door and looked up to where I knew she’d be… I saw her.
The worm moon blotted from the night sky, dark and red in the earth's shadow.
I rushed to grab a photo. A haphazard video. I never noticed the cold air on my bare skin. I spent maybe a minute with her... this blood moon I’d planned to sit with for nearly an hour.
And then suddenly I realized… I was done.
Done the way you’re done with a toxic stranger.
Done the way you turn off a movie you're no longer interested in.
No new stones on my altar.
No moon water.
No sitting on the deck staring up at her brilliant glow and pondering.
I went back inside.
At first I dismissed my apathy as the hangover of disappointment. But what if it was something else?
My whole life, I’ve felt protected. Near misses. Narrow escapes. Opportunities that felt choreographed. I never pinned that protection to one specific entity. Sometimes I smiled at being born in the year of the rabbit, sometimes I felt my ancestors near, and always, humming low beneath everything, the love of my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I believe He has both the power and the willingness to protect me from what He chooses... large or small, obvious or subtle.
Tonight, I felt as if something had done exactly that.
When I replay those brief moments under the eclipse, I remember the energy feeling… off. Not for me. Not this time.
Even now, I notice remnants in my body... a tug in my lower gut, ache in my back, tightness in my neck that keeps returning. If a minute in that atmosphere did this to me, what might an hour have done?
Without doubt, my greatest gift is my clairsentience.
My fiercest protector is my Lord.
Though my work is sometimes done in darkness,
He is the Lord of light, of forgiveness, of healing.
Tonight I came back inside and focused on Him.
On what He wants for me.
On what He has quietly shielded me from.
I never expected to be grateful for sleeping through alarms. I never expected to feel turned off by a lunar eclipse.
But surrender?
That feels familiar.
The quiet pivot. The redirection.
The intervention I didn’t see coming.
So… if that is what I was meant to transform tonight, my magic into His power, my intuition into His all-knowing, my expectation into His will...
Then beloveds, so be it.
What did the blood moon shake loose in you?
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