swirling



*One of Eli's many weather maps*



We baked bread, caught up laundry, stored up water and batteries, got extra books from the library.  We heard stories about how it would be at least a week before rural areas would get power back on; we watched way-too-many weather channel videos, all five of us squeezing in around the monitor.

Then Sandy chose an alternate route, and the boys made up songs about Superstorm Sandy while they played legos with the lights on.

As we moved through our day today, still with electricity, I struggled with what to do with all of this.  Americans like us in the outskirts who had been threatened with a loss of power, a disruption to everyday life.  Other Americans in danger, in never-dealt-with-this-before situations, circumstances reducing priorities to what really matters.  And others around the world who have never had the luxury of seeing something like this as a disruption, or as a first-time tragedy, but as just normal.  Normal to wonder how bad today is going to be.  Normal to wonder how to keep the children warm.  Normal to do everything the hard way instead of flipping switches and pushing buttons.

And all I can do is come back to this prayer yet again.

“Thank you for our daily bread. Through us, feed those who are hungry.

Thank you for bodies and minds that work. Through us, heal those who are broken.

Thank you for loving us when we were your enemies. Through us, love our enemies.

Thank you that someone told us the story of Christ’s death and resurrection.

Through us, tell the world. AMEN.” 

~Shaun Groves