Today, we had a power outage. It was very strange — suddenly, around 10 am, with sunny skies, the power surged and flickered once or twice, and then snapped off.
Living in Western Washington, we’re no strangers to power outages. High winds, tree falls, flooding, ice on power lines; all these can (and do) cause power outages. But usually they happen in winter, and most often in the evening, when they are sure to be noticed. In such cases, you gather what candles and non-working flashlights you can find, gather around the dining room table for a game or a story, and go to bed early.
Our weather this Summer has been hot, and dry and calm, so when the winds picked up this morning, we were quite surprised. Our pretty green patio umbrella blew away and was destroyed, and one of the shed doors was wrenched off its hinges. Then the power went out.
I had been working on my Sunday School class (I write my notes and questions in MS Word, and do most of my research on the passage via the internet) and suddenly I was forced to revert to old-school methods. I felt a real solidarity with monks, living in the dark ages.
It is surprising (to me, at least) how much of my life centers around work and entertainment, both of which tend to require electricity. I had planned to split my day between working on our church’s AWANA website and preparing for Sunday School, with maybe a movie thrown in in the evening. Without electrical power, I found myself at loose ends.
I zipped out to the Dollar store and shopped for a few things I needed for Sunday school, and picked up a few biscuits for breakfast (and, of course, a coffee for Kathy). We all caught up on our Bible reading. I read ten chapters of a Gary Schmidt book, What Came from the Stars aloud to Sarah and Kathy, and I developed my Sunday School class on paper. Eventually, the power did come back on (after six hours of barbarian life), and we celebrated by cooking a variation of our favorite Thai dish, Panang Curry.
In the evening, we drove to the airport to welcome back David, the returning prodigal, who reluctantly relinquished his life of luxury as a guest in California, in order to reclaim his rightful place in our family. After all, if he’d stayed away any longer, Sarah would probably have co-opted his bedroom as a craft workshop.
Project 365, Day 241