Photo Credit: Japokskee
Sometimes, the world just gets peculiar. This weekend? One of them.
I had no intention of disconnecting from the world this weekend. I know it’s a popular thing to do, but I wasn’t exactly feeling it. I went to church in the afternoon on Friday, and then to the grocery store. Not exactly disconnected at all. When I came home Friday, we loaded the groceries into the house and then the power went out.
Yes, completely out.
I have a love/hate relationship with power outages. I kind of love the ingenuity and togetherness and laughter that come when we aren’t distracted by technology and have limited options other than to entertain each other. I kind of hate worrying constantly about my hundreds (thousands?) of dollars worth of food in the fridge and freezers. Luckily, only a few hours into the outage, That Boy was able to borrow the generator from his dad that gave us enough power to keep the foodstuffs cold.
Now, when you call the power company here, you can ask the automated system for a “Restoration Estimate” and a cheery computer voice will tell you when you will hypothetically have power back. When we called at first, Computer Voice Suzy didn’t have an answer for us at all.
Because the river flats were on fire. (This is usually followed by, “What the hell is a river flat?)
A high tension line carrying power pole broke the remote, marshy area of the river basin. It hadn’t really rained here in quite awhile. That spark ignited the dead reeds and grass and then proceeded to burn out of control for 11 or so hours, destroying 8 other power poles in the process.
One of them carrying power to my house, 40+ miles away from the ‘flats.
I was up with the sun (and getting dressed in the dark without any hot water for a shower … hooray bandana day) so I could get to the local community egg hunt. I was dragging ass in a serious way. I didn’t want to go help out. I know … we’re not supposed to admit we don’t always want to be helpful. Boo.
Then the phone rang.
At 7 in the morning?!
I was in the bathroom and missed the call. I checked the ID and it was That Boy’s dad. We are not early morning people. We do not expect social calls before the sun comes up, so I was immediately anxious about what could have spurred The FIL to call.
I woke up That Boy.
Which he didn’t like at all.
In 20 minutes’ time we were in the car on the way to the hospital. That Boy’s grandmother had a stroke overnight on Friday. She died by early afternoon. We were with family the rest of the day/evening.
And it rained all day.
And the power came back on.
And then the sun came out.
I got up for early church so I could avoid the crush of people that would be there at 11am. I stayed in my bed a very long time trying to convince my body to move. Church was marvelous. Joyous. Raucous. Fabulous. It was a party. An amazing time.
After church we had a family egg hunt in the backyard. Watching a group of adults scrounge around the backyard, pushing and shoving their ways to the most jelly bean filled plastic eggs was hilarious. We went out for dinner because none of the preparations for dinner at home had been done on Saturday. It was a quiet afternoon.
Sometimes, it rains and rains and rains and it gets dark and foreboding and uncomfortable. Sometimes, it feels terrible standing in the cold rain, like nothing will ever be good again. Sometimes, though, the sun peeks out. It promises hope and warmth and new beginning. This weekend was one of those sometimes. New creation abounds. You just have to watch for it.
I appreciate any thoughts for That Boy’s family as they process the loss of their vibrant, dynamic, powerful, wonderful, sweet, amazing matriarch.