Uncle Gene Found the Moon

I really didn't want to go with my mom to her WMU meeting at the church that night.  It sounded so boring and I just wanted to stay home.

There wasn't going to be anyone else at home and my mother hesitated to let me stay there by myself.  I don't know how old I was at the time.  Somewhere between being old enough to think I could stay on my own and young enough to let my imagination run away with me when the dark night set in.

I grew up in a small community surrounded by family and friends ... grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins and church family filled our tiny town. 

Church life was very central to my childhood.  It seemed we were in church every time the doors were open. And I loved it.

I was especially drawn to the music.  The hymnal was a treasure trove for me.  When I was old enough to read I would follow along with my parents as we sang the beloved hymns.  Later, although not common knowledge, I studied the hymnal. I found it to be filled with information that was incredibly fascinating to me. 

My mother relented. On one condition.

I was to stay inside the house.

"Do not go outside."

"Stay inside."

"Do you understand?"

"Stay inside."

Thirty minutes later, as I was standing outside 

...

I became concerned that I could not find the moon.

'What was that song we sang? - tomorrow sun may never rise - was I ready to meet Jesus?'

'Or maybe it was that verse from the Bible about the moon?  - turning to blood - is this the end of the world?' 

As song and verse wretched about inside my young mind I became more and more convinced that something was very wrong.

But no one was home.

I had begged to stay home ...

and mom had told me to stay inside.

And I would have stayed inside except the moon was missing.  This might be the end of the world. 

Fretful as any child could be over such catastrophic events, I raced down the sidewalk to my aunt and uncle's house.  Uncle Gene was in his living room, sitting in his comfortable recliner watching the television.  The lights were low and he was probably not far away from his usual early bed time.

I ran up the steps to the front porch and knocked nervously on the door.  Any other time I would have run in without knocking, but it was close to bed time for Uncle Gene and the door was already locked for the night. 

He came to the door, obviously not expecting to see me standing there in distress over the missing moon, and all that entailed.

How could he have known that evening that he would be put upon to extinguish a young girl's fears and comfort her in her time of great anguish?

Through my panic induced tears, I told Uncle Gene my concerns and my terrifying tale of woe. 

And he listened.

Then he took me outside and calmly explained where we should look to see the moon. With great gentleness he handled my hysteria and was able to calm my anxious thoughts.

I'm not quite sure how he did all of this without laughing, but he did. 

And then he walked me home.

If I remember correctly, it was quite some time before my mom let me stay at home by myself after that particular evening. But I was okay with that. 

I am grateful for my childhood. For all the people who invested in my life over the years.  And I'm grateful that Uncle Gene was gracious enough to help me find the moon.