Leaving the Boat

The storm blew like a freight train building speed on loose tracks. Inside the shelter of our home, you could feel it vibrating through the walls. Through our bedroom window, you could see this wind-train on the tops of the firs as they huddled, bent and occasionally broke. You couldn't help but go outside to see if this was just a winter rain or if there was something greater and more profound happening.

Falling asleep, you knew that by the time you woke, the power would be cut somewhere on the south end of the Highlands. The trees down there must be of the same mind as they prepare to sacrifice their limbs. A storm rolls through, and you know exactly where you will wait in your car while the workers attempt to raise the poles and install new lines.

It wasn't me who made the first flush. Oops, no more water for that toilet. Er, and no more water anywhere. First task, get some firewood and restore warmth to the house.

Warmth came quickly through our woodstove. Our light-weight propane stove made it feel like we finally moved up in the world as we heated water by "gas" and not electricity. Hot tea, cold cereal and milk, a few pieces of fruit. Even without the ability to make our typical hot and big breakfast, we had enough resources for a solid meal.

The morning air outside was full of glory. A light mist came from some distant and unseen cloud though the sky reflected deep blue. The sun occasionally broke through empty wooded spaces to light and raise steam from the road as we walked and explored.

This power outage brought some unique and clever twists to an otherwise regular morning. Yet, the pleasure it brought lasted only three hours, and the memory of the previous night's storm in all her majesty had faded. I needed to get ready to go to the office. Enough of this fun and simplicity.

How much do I take for granted? I couldn't wash my hands. My hair looked like Don King's and needed a little water taming. Wiping the counter or any cleaning was out of the question. Vacuuming the dog-hair-clusters in preparation for evening guests was not likely. More importanly, we were down to our last few logs, enough heat for about 3 more hours. "Just how fast are the BC Hydro guys working?"

I gathered myself and my things, and I left for the office. No personal preparation. I would get by and so would others standing in my presence.

The outside of me is filled, taken care of and accounted for. The smallest and most insiginificant details have become requirements, expectations, and necessities. Too much to do and too many things gathered around me leaves space and loss on the inside. Maybe that was what I was feeling when the novelty of the outage wore off.

I can stop and be thankful for what I normally have. Better, I can stop in my awareness of what I perceive is missing. Then, allow my desires of life turn me to the One who satisfies the inner hunger and asks me to leave those things behind.

Thank God for the storm, the morning, and for finding a little light.

Mathew 4: 18-20