In 2004 our community was ravaged by three hurricanes, so we don’t mess around when we know a hurricane is coming.
Hurricane Charlie left most of us without power in our homes and communities for at least a week, which seems like it would be only a minor inconvenience and an opportunity to experience what it would have been like to live in a little house on the prairie, when in fact it is a horrible experience, so I don’t understand why Ma, Pa, Laura, Mary, and the other sister whose name I can’t remember always seemed so happy.
No power means no lights, which means everyone goes to bed early.
No power means no air-conditioning, which means no one who goes to bed early sleeps.
No power means no TV, which means no Sportscenter. Enough said.
No power means that all of the food in the refrigerator spoils leaving dry granola bars, Vienna sausages, and warm Gatorade as a desirable meal.
No power means that no businesses are open and–since restaurants that offer more options than granola, canned meat, and sports’ drinks are in the “businesses” category–that means that no restaurants are open.
No power means no street-lights, so every intersection becomes a four-way stop and a fight for survival.
No power means that fuel pumps can’t pump fuel, so–even though the tanks are full–there is no way to get the fuel from their tanks to yours.
No power means no email or cell-phones, which means that people actually have to speak to other people . . . brace yourself . . . face-to-face! Oh the horror of it all!
As I write this, my community is once again preparing for a storm. Ernesto, like many of the problems we face in life, looked impressive and scary from a distance, but–now that he’s close–he’s not that big of a deal, but–even so–my community has prepared for the worst.
All of the local schools are closed for tomorrow for a Florida “Snow Day.” A lot of businesses will be closed tomorrow and a lot of churches have cancelled services for tomorrow night. People lined up at gas stations today to fill up their vehicles and extra gas cans. We checked our supplies. My boys are sleeping in the floor next to our bed and the cat is strapped to the roof.
My boys are sleeping in their room. 🙂
It now looks like Ernesto is going to bring nothing, but a brisk wind and a lot of rain, which is–if I can speak for my friends and neighbors–completely fine with us. We will enjoy not having to remove downed trees, cover our roofs with blue tarps, drive an hour and then wait two more for a few gallons of gas, and lay in the dark sweating all night because the power is out.
Powerlessness is not fun. Powerlessness is not pleasurable. Powerlessness is over-rated.
The Ingalls may have done perfectly well without power, but that’s just because they didn’t know what they were missing.
And–if you don’t have the power of Jesus Christ in your life–you may think that you’re doing perfectly well, but that’s just because you don’t know what you’re missing.
You’re eating granola bars and Vienna sausage when you could be feasting on the “bread of life” (John 6:35).
You’re drinking warm Gatorade, when you could be enjoying “living water” (John 4:10).
And you’re stumbling around in the dark, when you could be strolling in the “light of the world” (John 8:12).