The leaves are still turned away, left there
by the force of the wind. Perhaps even afraid
to face the gentle breeze that now embraces
them. Branches once scattered, are now
gathered in one spot. Bits and pieces of what
once was still cling to the memory of it.
The plants and trees took the brunt of the storm.
What about me?
Sometimes it doesn't take much to cause
confusion and the feeling of being lost.
Any slight interruption in routine always
has a ripple effect on me.
But this was more than slight for most
people. They are still dealing with the
aftermath.
I am pretty much back to normal... I'm
sorry. I had to pause for a moment after
writing that. The one thing I'm not now or
ever have been is..."normal."
So, you would think that a hurricane would fit
in to my life just fine. It didn't.
It disrupted it. It was an inconvenience. All we
lost was power. Oh, and most of the
contents of our refrigerator.
That's okay. It needed cleaning anyway.
Still losing power meant losing my connection
to the world. Losing power meant I never really
knew what was going on with you.
The truth is I loved the hurricane. Not the
destruction, certainly not the loss of life, nor the
financial impact it had on so many, but the
storm itself.
I stood just outside my door and watched the
distant trees begin to sway, then bend as the
unseen force of God's creation swept into my
world. The rain pelted my face but I could not
feel the sting they so often spoke about. If it were
not the for flying debris or fear of falling branches,
I would have stood in the middle of it all and
let Irene have her way with me.
As evening approached and the last hopes of
the return of electricity faded, we began to light
candles.
It should have been romantic. I always associate
candles with celebrations and romance.
This evening the candles were fighting fear. The
fear of darkness. The fear of the howling winds.
But I am not afraid of the dark. I am more afraid
of the light sometimes. What you can't see in
darkness pales in comparison to the light of reality.
Just before going to bed I walked outside into
the night and instead of worry I found joy. The
clouds had passed and before me the universe
waited. Although we are far from a city, the lights
of the world have dimmed the view of the millions
of tiny lights I remembered in my youth.
With the street lights off I could see the world
as in my childhood and but stood there at such
an age as to deeply appreciate it all now. I pointed
and called out their names..."There's the big dipper!"
I said. My eyes were wide open in a child-like gaze,
the way I want them to be now at 61. I must have said
"awesome" a dozen times.
Like a school boy begging his mother to let
him stay up, my heart beat faster and faster at the
prospect of simply standing there until sunrise.
I didn't. Now I wish I had.
A few days passed and the power returned. In a
sense I wished it hadn't. I turned on the television
and saw the destruction in my own community.
With mixed emotions I, on one hand, ached for the
people who lost so much and on the other hand
saddened by the fact that I found more joy in
darkness than in the light that day.
Perhaps this was the lesson here. "A lesson from
the storm?" you may ask.
Yes, every event carries with it something to be
learned.
Storms in your life can bring both destruction and
joy. It all depends on how prepared you are and
what you choose to see in the darkest hours.
"I wish you enough!"
J
~ Bob Perks ~
Good news - Bob Perks' first book, "I Wish You Enough," Embracing Life's Most Valuable Moments... is now available for ordering. Here's the "Link"
to get your copy of Bob's book:
I Wish You Enough from Amazon.com.
