Eric blames my sister Beth for Ian’s latest obsession with the moon. Several nights she walked with him outside, piquing his interest in the night sky.
Most nights since she left he has started asking to see the moon. Several nights ago, after persistent asking (“Loon, Mommy! See Loon!”), I agreed to take him to the park to look for the moon. Olivia came too.
As we walked out, I commented that it was cloudy and it didn’t seem like the moon was around. Olivia said, “Stop! Mommy!” And she closed her eyes and asked God to put the moon out so that Ian could see it.
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to squelch her sweet young faith, but it was really cloudy and expected to rain later that night.
We walked to the park, stood in the middle of the field, and looked all around. No moon. Ian just turned around in circles, pleading: “Loon – come! Come, Loon, come!” I’ll never forget the tone of his voice as he tried to persuade the moon to make a showing.
We walked back to the house, Ian wanting to return to the park to continue searching. Olivia was quiet.
We walked up onto the doorway. And just then – above the neighbor’s home across the street – was the roundest, orangest moon you’ve ever seen. It had just risen. Olivia was not surprised, except for how orange it was. Ian just kept exclaiming, “The loon! The Loon! The Loon!” I was busy breathing deeply and repenting, realizing how much my two youngest can teach me.