Monday, February 6, 2023
Memorial of Saint Paul Miki and Companions, Martyrs
(click here to listen to or read today’s scriptures)
Ice, sun, the moon, some spoons
In the beginning the earth was a formless wasteland, and darkness was over the face of the deep.
In our parking lot, on the sidewalk approaching our apartment, inside the front door – darkness.
The Spirit of God (ruah), a mighty wind, hovered over the waters.
Walking into the invisible, we tried to relax our vigilance, letting our feet swing through each step, trusting what we knew from yesterday – yes invisible but brightly dark, undefined but with presence indivisible, we walked into and through the dark, and were swept up by the silence.
Then God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light.
And it was Sunday afternoon. I sat on my bed, grateful for sunshine, reading the latest bulletin from Austin Energy. In 18 hours their restored customers went up, from 267,365 to 300,485. A map accompanied the bulletin, which showed the remaining outages, spot by spot. There was a dot near us.
Our internet worked intermittently. I clicked on the dot and waited for the info. An active crew had been working since 9 am. While we were at church, those hometown heroes worked to get us light.
God saw how good the light was. Then he separated the light from the darkness.
Sudden. Not soft, the way it had all gone out. First the furnace kicked on, sudden storm broke the silence. Then I realized, as Margaret exclaimed, that all kinds of things were coming on. Lights and Alexas and freezer and refrigerator and … and … and … I pushed the button behind our Mac Mini, and …
Thus evening came, and morning followed – the first day.
It took several minutes to re-adjust. We had been powerless just over five days and nights. After the first night we moved back and forth between our apartment and Andi’s house. Her neighborhood lost power Tuesday night for a few hours, but it came back before dawn on Wednesday. We found sanctuary there, warmth and food and fun. Miles and Jasper entertained all four of their grandparents for a few days, since Aki’s parents, Ken and Rachel, have been staying there since moving from Buffalo before Christmas.
They will find a house soon, but for now, it’s party time. We played spoons every night. We ate Japanese and Thai and American food for lunch and dinner. We sat at a picnic table in front of the food trucks down the street and played spoons there, too. The plastic spoons did not blow away in the breeze.
I did my counseling from Andi’s bedroom and the kitchen breakfast nook, and came back home two of the nights and slept in the dark, in the cold – our darkness lit by some awesome Menard’s Black Friday lights and lanterns which I recharged over and over in the car and at Andi’s house. It was cozy under the electric blanket, even if it was just thick and not heated. I wore my stocking cap. I didn’t take off my warm clothes, all those layers, from Tuesday till Saturday.
By that time the temperature had risen to 65 degrees. Sunday it was 70. Today it will be 75. How can this be? The ice melted in an hour on Friday. But broken branches from nearly every tree littered sidewalks and streets everywhere in Austin. How much ice? Sometimes as much as half an inch. That’s enough to knock branches off any tree. Every tree. And Texas trees have been weakened by storms these last few years.
And so it happened: God made the two great lights, the greater one to govern the night; and he made the stars. God set them in the dome of the sky, to shed light upon the the earth, to govern the day and the night, and to separate the light from the darkness. God saw how good it was.
It’s a full moon Sunday night. The Texas sky is clear and blue even as it darkens into black. These are the days that the Lord has made.
(Genesis 1, Psalm 104, Matthew 4, Mark 6)
(posted at www.davesandel.net)
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