Part 1

August
Chapter 1

Totality
Virginia Cooper wanted to see a miracle. She longed to see God’s mighty arm at work in her world. However, in her experience, miracles typically seemed to require a tragedy first, so she thought it wise to be cautious about putting her thoughts into words. Instead, she quietly hoped in her heart for something to bring renewal to her life.

Virginia was named for a saint according to the old-world tradition. Her family quickly reduced it to Ginny, but she was curious one day and looked up her name in an encyclopedia. Saint Virginia lived in Genoa, Italy in the 1500s and dedicated her life to feeding victims of famine and plague. Ginny didn’t think that sounded very fun or romantic, but she remembered it many years later.

She had been thinking about her name and its uncanny appropriateness one night as she stared into the darkness of her bedroom and listened to her husband’s even breathing. She knew it wasn’t his fault that she couldn’t sleep. After years of sleep deprivation while raising children, she resented the irony of having her peaceful nights cursed with insomnia; but she knew her wakefulness had more to do with the squirrel running on a treadmill in her head than with Rob’s cold feet. Every night, Ginny rehearsed in her mind the years of raising children and what she could have done differently. She wondered if growing old was pushing her to reminisce about past adventures, or if her memories were being prompted by the impending promotion to empty nester.

Ginny still wore her chocolate-brown hair just long enough for Rob to sleep on. He liked to remind her with a grin that it had some red highlights. She worried about her hair being inappropriate for a grandmother, but she always felt like she could run faster when she put it up in a ponytail. Now she noticed that her hands were beginning to resemble her grandmother’s, and she was becoming increasingly aware that her world was changing. Her countenance was sometimes sorrowful these days, but her hazel eyes still looked for surprises and divine intervention.

Ginny grew up in suburbia during the blessed reign of the baby boomers. Suburban life had a certain homogeneity to it, largely defined by what everyone watched on television. Ginny’s life, however, had undercurrents of other, older cultures flowing through it. Her father came from the part of Appalachia that was settled by wild and warlike Scottish highlanders, and rebellion ran in their veins. Her mother came from brave Slavic immigrants who made their way through Ellis Island. Ginny was raised to be comfortable with strong flavors, opinions, and language as well as old superstitions and traditions.

The closest thing to adventure that Ginny’s mother could offer her in suburbia was registration to be a Bluebird with the Camp Fire Girls. Ginny wore a blue and red uniform dress with a blue baseball cap, and she received a hardcover book named The Bluebird Wish Comes True that she devoured from cover to cover. She learned how to write secret messages with lemon juice and then reveal them by ironing over the top. She learned how to make trail markers with stones, but she didn’t know how she would ever find a trail that she could mark. She went to Bluebird meetings once a week and learned to make a foil dinner and to paint a little ceramic vase with speckled paint. Virginia wanted more than anything to grow up, go camping, and have adventures.

Ginny grew up believing like all her schoolmates that she was a blank slate who would get an education and then choose a vocation like choosing a flavor of ice cream from Baskin Robbins. It never occurred to her that she could be carrying a heritage of resilience, courage, and fervor from her ancestors that would see her through being a disaster magnet her whole life. That fervor had certainly played a role during high school in her conversion to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Her courage also sustained her as she attended an all-girl religious school where she wore a plaid uniform skirt and knee socks. The school had an annual tradition of offering two weeks of adventure through travel or specialty classes, and of course, Ginny signed up for the CPR and survival classes.

Rob must have been disturbed by her busy thoughts because he stirred next to her and asked if she was alright. “Tell me a story,” he whispered to her. Rob and Ginny had a tradition of asking each other to “tell me a story.” It was akin to saying, “a penny for your thoughts,” but they expected a full-blown narrative from each other, not just a few measly thoughts. Ginny smiled and poured out some of her childhood disaster stories about tornadoes, floods, and survival classes that involved eating snakes and cattails.

“You didn’t!” Rob raised up on his elbow and looked at her. He thought he already knew everything about her.

“Oh, yes, I did!” Ginny laughed as she looked up at him and the canopy overhead.

“Really? What a strange thing—to be able to see a self-reliance thread weaving through your life ever since your early years,” he commented.

“Not so strange,” replied Ginny. “Don’t you have something that has been intertwined with your life from the very beginning? Like a theme song?”

“Maybe,” Rob said, lying down again and thinking over some of his experiences. “Do you think everyone has a life calling like your work with emergency preparedness?”

Ginny was quiet for a while then softly commented, “It’s not easy to carry a peculiar calling in life. People don’t always like us for what we are called to do. I know some of our kids don’t like me for it—the emergency preparedness thing. It’s a constant source of irritation for them, but there are reasons I do what I do.”

“Like experiencing every natural disaster?”

“Almost. We haven’t been through a volcano or tsunami yet. Maybe you should take me to Hawaii.” Ginny grinned at him in the dark.

“Hmm. I don’t think that would be very good for Hawaii.” Rob grinned back.

Ginny’s smile faded again. “Robbie, do you sometimes feel like you’re still a little boy? Every day, I wake up feeling like a little girl with no idea of how to do what I need to do.”

“You are the most capable little girl I have ever known,” he said. “You will keep figuring it out; you always do. And you have some happy children and grandchildren who do appreciate your gifts—Saint Virginia,” he added with a smile.

Ginny didn’t feel so capable as she packed up their old suburban the next day. “Why do I do these things to myself?” she murmured. She wondered if a miracle would be worth all the work: the shopping, the packing, and the arranging for Sunday’s church responsibilities. She asked herself that question a lot these days. Parenthood, church service, community involvement—Ginny had given her life to serving others and was feeling the weight of the years of labor. She laid her head on the console between the two front seats with a folded jacket as her pillow.

Robert Cooper briefly caressed her head and rested his hand on her shoulder as he drove their maroon suburban and twenty-foot travel trailer to Rexburg, Idaho for the big eclipse. He was worried about her. He knew what most people didn’t—his strong-willed, optimistic woman was burdened with the sadness of losing their prodigal children. He thought about turning on the radio, but she didn’t listen to music anymore. She said it made her cry.

Rob was worried the eclipse experience would be a big disappointment for Ginny. When she sat up to look at their surroundings, he asked, “Are you sure that viewing the solar eclipse in the path of totality will be that much better than seeing it from home? An eight-five percent view sounds good enough to me.”

Ginny hadn’t run out of enthusiasm yet. “I don’t know, but I would really like to find out. Besides, we have a son living in Rexburg right smack in the middle of the path of totality. Who could ask for better circumstances?”

Rob carefully responded, “All I’m saying is, don’t get your hopes up too high. We might need to be happy with just spending time with grandkids.” Their plan was to park their trailer in the cul-de-sac in front of Richard’s house where they could enjoy some time with their grandchildren, but also have a place of retreat and peace. Rob hoped that Ginny could at least get some rest during this trip. He knew Ginny’s side was bothering her again, and she was going round and round in her head, wondering if it was her gallbladder or an ulcer. She had been Relief Society president for almost two years now and had a pretty good handle on her responsibilities, but they were both surprised by the constant stream of phone calls and texts from morning until night that kept her perpetually on edge. They planned to reduce stress during their trip by allowing extra time before and after the eclipse to try to avoid the worst of the traffic for the historic event.

Rob couldn’t help but remember the four blood-moon eclipses they had already watched in the lead up to the solar eclipse. He thought the blood moons had been mildly interesting, but Ginny was proud to be able to say she had witnessed all four. Rob had drawn a diagram to show her how the red cast came from the sun’s rays passing through the earth’s atmosphere to settle on the moon as the earth moved between the sun and moon. The first lunar eclipse only required staying up a little late at night, but the second blood moon required that they set the alarm for the middle of the night. Rob had to wake Ginny with a little shake.

“You are going to be mad at yourself if you can’t say that you saw them all.” He knew that it was Ginny’s way to be all in. She knew that it was his way as much as hers.

Ginny didn’t remember the third blood moon—it hadn’t been extraordinary in any way—but the fourth had presented an extra challenge. The moon was so low in the sky that they had to drive down from the shadow of their mountain to a church parking lot to be able to see it and text fuzzy photos back and forth in the family texting group.

Ginny’s eagerness to witness something meaningful had continued to make Rob a little crazy on occasion. She carefully studied all the media hype that included books, documentaries, and YouTube videos, trying to wrap her brain around how the eclipses worked. Ginny had learned that many significant events in Israel’s history seemed to follow soon after a tetrad, or a grouping of four blood moons. The last blood-moon tetrad had taken place in 1967 and foreshadowed the Six-Days’ War in Israel. Apparently, a lunar eclipse is considered a bad omen for the land of Israel because they use a lunar calendar, but a solar eclipse means bad news for the Gentiles with their solar calendar.

“Did you know this solar eclipse will draw a slash across the United States from Oregon to South Carolina, and the next one in seven years will draw a slash from Texas to Maine? The resulting X will mark a spot in southern Illinois like a pirate treasure map. No one knows the significance of the X, but I can’t help but wonder about its closeness to the prophesied land of Zion. Coincidence?” Ginny asked emphatically. “I don’t think so!”

The Coopers finally reached the culmination of their eclipse odyssey with their arrival at their son’s house. Ginny went in to visit with the grandkids while Richard helped Rob to get the trailer situated. Rob and Richard were obviously father and son. They were both tall with curly hair, but Rob kept his cropped short as it was beginning to recede. Ginny teased him occasionally that he secretly aspired to wear a ponytail, too. Rob just rolled his eyes.

The next day, as weary as she was, Ginny didn’t leave Relief Society completely behind. She set up her computer on Richard and Chloe’s dining table and worked on updating the emergency binders for the ward leadership. Once again, Ginny wondered why she did these things to herself. Would her binders ever be used? She didn’t know, but she felt compelled to keep them up to date. She had deliberately chosen red binders and labeled them the “Hot Sheets.” She gave binders to her presidency members and to the Elders Quorum president. She stashed the bishopric’s binder in the clerk’s office. Ginny tried to update the binder contents every August when the ward happenings slowed down for the summer. This weekend would be her best hope for getting the project completed for this year.

Ginny and Rob enjoyed the pleasant Idaho weather and watched the kids launch toy helicopter spinners up into the clear blue sky. They overindulged in popcorn from the local grocery store that sold candy-coated popcorn in every color and flavor. They didn’t need the trip to the grocery store, but they wanted to see how much of the town was filling up with eclipse tourists. Helicopters from the local news station occasionally flew overhead as they also checked out the pilgrims flowing in. The local Walmart had a few extra RVs in the parking lot, and they had sold out of potatoes.

“Seriously?” Ginny laughed at the irony of Idaho running out of potatoes, but she admitted the population didn’t appear to have swelled to apocalyptic proportions. Rob continued to worry that she would be disappointed.

Monday morning dawned crystal clear with beautiful sunshine as the family loaded up for an epic trek around the block. Out came their trusty red wagon, and into it went blankets, water bottles, fish crackers, and gummy bears.

“Kids! Remember to bring your jackets!” Chloe, Richard’s wife, shouted out to the house in general. Eclipse instructions included warnings about the temperature dropping, but Ginny thought it felt warm enough to not have to worry about a slight drop in temperature. She kept her mouth shut though, being content to be the grandma instead of the parents in charge.

Rob had ordered black-polymer eclipse glasses weeks ago. They were inexpensive for months leading up to the event until the price suddenly began doubling every day until there were none to be found anywhere. Ginny worried that the kids might look at the sun without their glasses, so she brought glow sticks to act as a little diversion.

With trips to the bathroom completed, the little parade of children set off along the sidewalk through the pretty suburban neighborhood, chattering like monkeys. They began to see other families making their way in the same direction toward the Rexburg temple. Rob and Ginny held the hands of a chubby grandson and swung him between them until their arms grew tired.

“Rob, doesn’t this remind you of King Benjamin’s call to his people to gather to the temple?” Ginny asked, not really expecting an answer. The Rexburg temple was perched like a castle on a plateau, which was the highest ground in the area and commanded the best view. On this unusual day, the temple was closed, and the gates were locked. Ginny saw people crowded onto the strip of lawn between the sidewalk and the wrought-iron temple fence.

Ginny stretched up on tiptoe to whisper in Rob’s ear, “They almost look like they are hoping to go inside.” He noticed she had to blink her eyes a few times as the image was seared into her mind of the many people who were so close but could not enter. Rob squeezed her hand.

Richard led his tribe still farther along the crest of Rexburg’s only hill until they could see the acres of farm fields stretching behind the temple in quilt patches of grain and potatoes. He quickly found a stretch of shoulder where they could set up camp chairs and blankets. The eclipse was already under way, and the crowd of observers began to peer through their glasses now and then. Traffic flowed by in a steady stream, and Ginny texted her brother, Matthew, to give him directions. He had gotten out ahead of the masses that morning, but her son, Paul, was stuck on the highway. The Armageddon of traffic jams that the media had been predicting had finally materialized that morning as two-thirds of the nation tried to move themselves into the path of totality. Paul could see that he wasn’t going to make it, so he was considering pulling onto the shoulder of the highway to watch the eclipse from there. Ginny felt a moment of pride in her son who always made such valiant efforts to provide inspiring experiences for his family, even in the face of adversity.

Texting added to the party atmosphere as family members who were present tried to share the experience with family members who had stayed home. Leaves on the trees were beginning to cast crescent shapes on the ground, and the images were a little surreal. Ginny’s daughter, Rose, brought a pasta strainer outside to project a myriad of crescents on her driveway from the diminished sun shining through the holes. Rob thought some of the shared shadow photos were impressive, and he began to hope that maybe they would yet see something miraculous for Ginny’s sake.

Rob gazed across the valley at the farthest western edge, miles away from where they sat, and suddenly saw a wall of darkness appear and begin to roll toward them. He jumped up from his chair, knocking it over, and pointed to the west.

“Look everyone, here comes the darkness! The moon is blocking the sunlight from reaching the earth, and it’s creating a great shadow.”

The approaching moon shadow reminded Ginny of the angel of death coming to ancient Egypt. The darkness swept silently but relentlessly across the valley until it reached the people who were crowded around the temple fence. In an instant, the temple lights flared on, and a cheer rose from everyone within view.

“Look! The temple lights are on!” they all shouted to each other, celebrating the light dispelling the darkness.

Ginny noticed other peculiar changes that were a surprise. None of the literature had mentioned that the crickets would start to chirp like they do at dusk in the summertime. And then it got cold. Really cold!

“I can’t believe how cold it is!” Ginny marveled. I thought the astronomers meant a little chilly, but this is seriously cold.” Richard noticed her rubbing her arms and shrugged out of his jacket to wrap it around her. She hugged his gangly frame, feeling a moment of tenderness for her sweet boy.

Ginny suddenly remembered the glow sticks. She had been so proud of her idea, and she was determined not to take them home again. She ran around giving them to each of the children, still fearful that they might look up at the wrong moment without their protective glasses.

“We’ve got to be crazy bringing children to see this,” she muttered to Rob, “but I don’t want them to miss it!” He caught her eye, and she smiled a little sheepishly. She couldn’t help herself from preparing for every little thing.

Finally, the moon moved squarely in front of the sun, and suddenly Ginny could see nothing through her glasses. Night had descended on them in the middle of the day. Seven minutes of total darkness had begun.

“Hey!” the kids complained. “What happened?”

“Someone turned out the lights,” Rob grinned. “That’s what happens in a total eclipse—the sun is completely covered. You can see its outline around the moon with your naked eyes.”

“But how do we know when to put the glasses back on?” Ginny asked.

“That’s the dangerous part,” Rob explained. “You must put them on just after you see the diamond ring when the sun comes peeking around the edge again.”

Matt caught the end of their conversation. “So, what do you mean by ‘diamond ring’? I heard them mention it in the eclipse documentary you sent to me, but I didn’t understand it.”

Ginny said, “Neither did I, but I’m hoping we’ll know it when we see it.”

As they continued to gaze at the sun with their naked eyes, they could see a black circle of moon surrounded by the sun’s corona that undulated in huge, beautiful, angel wings far out into space. The vision was breathtaking, and Ginny felt her heart in her throat as she witnessed the majesty of God’s creation.

“Wow! Look at that! It’s amazing!” As everyone exclaimed at the beauty before their eyes, Ginny felt as though they were shouting hosannas they couldn’t keep contained.

“Robbie, what is that? Do you see it—those beautiful waves of color like delicate, gossamer, butterfly wings waving around the sun? Isn’t it incredible?”

Robbie was quietly taking in the extraordinary phenomenon and having his own epiphany. Without removing his eyes, he responded, “The corona is there waving above us all the time. It looks like the phoenix of the world, rising from the ashes of our doubts.”

“I wonder how many other miracles happen around us all the time without us recognizing them,” Ginny murmured while continuing to stare at the heavens.

Rob and Ginny found themselves holding their breath as the brief moments passed. At last, the moon moved just enough, and they saw the first ray of light explode around the edge of the moon’s shadow with the force of a cannon.

“I see it! I see it!” everyone shouted together.

“The diamond ring!” Matt shouted. “I see it! I get it! You have to see it to get it!”

When the first ray of light peaked around the edge of the moon, it wasn’t tentative. It burst out like an intense flare, which appeared as a diamond set on the ring of the corona that encircled the moon. Rob and Ginny had heard about it, but nothing would ever compare to seeing it with their own eyes.

And then, in an instant, they knew it was time to put on their eclipse glasses before the moon moved fully out of the way. Parents hollered for children to hurry to put on their glasses. For the first time, they experienced the reality of mankind being unable to bear the light of the divine presence.

Rob and Ginny hugged each other and laughed and cried a little, then hugged their grandchildren. Rob watched Ginny throw her arms out like wings, turn her face up to the sky, and spin in circles with the grandchildren; and he knew she was going to be ok. Gradually, everyone settled back down into their camp chairs with little sighs of exhaustion after the emotion. They watched the great shadow continue toward the east, and the crickets stilled. Ginny peeled off Richard’s jacket as the day became far too warm for it.

Ginny and Rob could feel the moment of communion with the universe slipping away and tried to catch it and pull it back; but it was gone. The adults moved sluggishly after their shared exuberance and slowly began to pack up the blankets and chairs. Matt gathered his boys and jumped into his car to try to beat the traffic. He didn’t—they eventually pulled off the highway to have some dinner and to let the traffic crawl along without them. Richard’s tribe loaded up the wagon and began to trudge wearily back home.

Ginny and Rob almost began to feel foolish for making such a big deal over such a little thing, except that they knew it wasn’t a little thing—Ginny had received her miracle.

“One hundred percent viewing totality made all the difference, didn’t it?” he acknowledged to her.

Ginny agreed. “Eighty-five percent would not have been good enough, but we would never have known it had we not experienced totality. I feel sorry for our family members who missed it, and I wish I had tried harder to persuade them to come.” Rob and Ginny quietly pondered the import of these revelations as the family slowly made their way home. Viewing the eclipse had been a transcendent experience and would stay with them all during their drive home and for many days after that.

As they waved good-bye to their grandchildren the next day, Rob turned to Ginny and declared, “I’m going to the next eclipse. Are you coming with me?”

“Absolutely!” she replied. “We’re all in, right?”