As a rule, I’ve never been a numbers person. Math intimidates me. Probably why I was perfectly content teaching no higher than third grade. I first realized I might have passed my arithmophobia onto Natalie when she cried during a second grade multiplication timed test. Sorry, Nat. Once at a restaurant, I cried a little inside when Meagan gave me a hard time for pulling out the calculator to figure tax and tip as well as carrying the ones and tens columns on the actual check. Funny? I should’ve had Meg pick up the tab after that.

This week Dave and I, along with half a million of our closest friends, experienced a truly once-in-a-lifetime event. The 2024 Total Solar Eclipse. Living in the path of totality had its advantages. We didn’t have to hop on plane or drive anywhere. We walked a good fifteen feet onto our driveway and looked up into the sky. Not trying to rub it in, cousin Elaine, we do really feel bad that your three hour drive home to Chicago ended up taking nine hours.

Nonetheless, totatality worth it.

In fact, it far surpassed all my expectations. If I’m being honest, I really had none and didn’t see what all the hype was about early on. After all, we’d had weeks of extreme weather leading up to the big day. Meteorologists out here had their work cut out for them. It was like our third winter last weekend with a buffet of wind, thunder, rain, snow, and ice. And a 75 degree day thrown in there just to keep the hope alive.

I woke up on Eclipse Day to bright, clear blue skies and birds chirping. Lots of them. Maybe gearing themselves up for the big event as apparently they go oddly silent during eclipses. There was an unusual vibe in the air – like we were on the verge of something spectacular.

I hadn’t been able to do my typical long walks downtown with Miles lately as I strained a hip muscle (dreaded piriformis thang) last month trying to take down a dead tree in our backyard. The tree won. I haven’t been able to run without pain and just made the even more painful decision to defer my Carmel half marathon coming up this weekend to next year -ruining my ten year streak.

I’m okay with the decision now having wrestled until the last minute deadline to defer last Saturday. Disappointing for sure, but I’ve come a long way in that had this happened a few years ago, it would’ve hit me much harder on several levels. I prayed a lot for healing but even more for peace either way.

Since Dave’s recovery from his stem cell transplant last December (see previous post), he’s been kicking our butts walking more and at a decent pace. When just a few months ago you struggled to even walk a few steps around your hospital room, you have a new appreciation for those walks your wife dragged you on before. But the sentiment was not limited to Dave. I also had a new appreciation for our walks together. So when my second bout of piriformis syndrome hit last month (first time was back in 2017), all I really wanted was to be able to enjoy long walks with Dave pain-free.

Some days it’s been a struggle to just walk the 3/4 mile loop around our neighborhood. But on Monday’s Eclipse Day, I was determined to enjoy the gorgeous weather (it’s currently pouring down rain as I’m writing) with the anticipation that something extraordinary was about to happen. Miles and I walked seven miles that morning taking in the vibes from all the eclipse watch venues along the Monon Trail to City Hall. On the way back, we ran into a wedding party headed to their rooftop destination for their ceremony timed for the moment of totality. I had to ask why today? The groom answered with a blinding smile “We met in 2017 during the last eclipse!” Partial eclipse, but still – awww!

Speaking of blinding, I stopped so many times to take pics and chat with folks that it was now later than I’d planned to be out and didn’t bring my eclipse glasses with me. Miles and I picked up our pace and got home just in time to get settled on our front porch and driveway joined by Dave. Our neighbors were already out front – some with grandkids visiting as the school district had cancelled in-person school for the eclipse. It wasn’t long before I heard one of the kids exclaim “It’s starting!” I put on my glasses (AFTER stepping off the porch steps – you literally can’t see your hands before your face) and looked in the direction of the sun. Okay, I’m suddenly that eight year old kid across the street and yelling for Dave to get out here. Catching that first glimpse of a sliver of sun being blocked out was already amazing.

About 45 minutes later it was a sliver going the other way AND it felt noticeably colder! As 3:06 pm approached, the excitement level and my need to pee increased. No way I’m missing this now – I can certainly hold it 3 minutes and 29 seconds (expected duration of totality). As the skies darkened and totality hit, I heard a collective gasp from neighbors and Dave as well as “wow, whoa, and oh my goshes!” I was legit cold at this point. Apparently the temps had dropped 11.7 degrees in the ten minutes before and during totality.

We were all in awe is the best way to describe it.

In retrospect, I wish I’d geeked out before the eclipse and done more research on things like historical dates of totality (last one here was 1869), temp changes, effects on wildlife and doggos, as well as how to capture photos/videos. Would I have appreciated the experience more? Perhaps. But appreciating and being in awe are two different things. I can appreciate a well cooked ribeye without being in awe of it. Dave would beg to differ. I was genuinely in awe, moved, and affected in ways I didn’t expect by the eclipse.

The next day, which was cloudy, I was still trying to process what I had experienced. It was nothing short of brilliant. Majestic. Captivating. Mysterious, Awe-inspiring. I was about to add miraculous then paused. I tend to categorize the miraculous as things that are surprising, unpredictable, or against all odds. The eclipse was certainly no surprise or unpredictable – especially to a half million tourists who might’ve been angry on an astronomical scale had they showed up to find “Oh, oops, it’s actually happening NEXT Monday.”

Against all odds. That phrase is typically used when referring to overcoming great adversity, obstacles, or life-threatening situations. SO, here’s the real reason and inspiration for this blogpost:

2,103,025

The exact, precise number of cells from Dave’s follow up biopsy last month. I had called his doctor’s office this morning since we’d been waiting on final results of three tests. The first two had already shown excellent results, but the third would be the most definitive of his multiple myeloma (bone marrow cancer) diagnosis post transplant. When the nurse gave me the numbers, I think I asked her to repeat them three times as I wasn’t sure what I was hearing initially. And then I asked a couple more times what this meant.

“Of the 2,103,025 cells tested, less than 1 were cancerous.”

Less than one? Trying to wrap my head around that…

She must’ve sensed the amazement and/or confusion in my voice as she responded “yeah, I’m not sure why they even say less than one.” Perhaps for liability they can’t say zero?

Four months ago, Dave was at IU Hospital with a white blood cell count of less than one. Hemoglobin and platelets in the single digits as well. So to hear the report that there is less than one cancer cell is what I’d categorize as miraculous.

You know what? That’s just a typical day at the office for God. What I consider a miracle is something SO BIG, SO UNATTAINABLE that only God can take the credit. But God does the miraculous EVERY SINGLE DAY without fail. If we only knew and/or witnessed every single one, we would surely be overwhelmed.

This is the tenth year and 93rd post of the blog I began in 2014 after retiring from teaching. If I really think about it, every post is a miracle. In each post (chapter), I’ve attempted to articulate the miraculous – the foundation of which was me running my first marathon – something SO BIG, SO UNATTAINABLE, that only God can take the credit. Ten years later, this blogpost has become less about actual running or racing and more about every day life. Experiencing the miraculous each day.

My big takeaway from Monday’s eclipse – which hit me like an asteroid on Tuesday – is if God can create, direct, organize, orchestrate, implement, and present Monday’s magnificent eclipse then NOTHING IS TOO HARD FOR HIM! Not Dave’s cancer diagnosis, our businesses, our families, our friends, my nagging hip…nothing is out of His reach and care.

“God even knows how many hairs you have on your head.” Luke 12:7

And yes, Dave’s hair is growing back fast and furious!

My day to day life is in the very capable hands of the God of the universe. I knew this intellectually, but it took a total eclipse for it to finally hit home. I guess that’s what happens when you’re in His path of totality.

“The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands.” Psalm 19:1

PC Bridget Melson via Erin Kvistad