It’s 9:45 pm and I just heard the first peal of thunder.
Irene is coming.
The weatherman says she’ll arrive around 8:00 tomorrow morning but adds that we’ll likely begin feeling tropical storm-force winds this evening.
I drove through town about two hours ago. (I live in a small town so it didn’t take me long.) Everything was calm…eerily so. Windows are boarded up and porch-furniture turned on end. Everyone’s holding their breath.
There will be a gathering at the church tomorrow. Supposedly the building is more secure and will be safer than staying at home. I don’t believe it though. I think that during times like these, people need to be around others. To reach out to those whom they’re most familiar with and face the trouble together.
The same urge is what causes humans to hold hands, I think. We feel connected to each other. The “broad and ugly ditch” between us and a world outside of our minds is crossed by something so simple…so human! (I bet that even Kant held is mother’s hand once in awhile.)
Power will probably go out soon. I should probably save this and post it as I go.
My life really doesn’t need this sort of interruption at the moment. Power will likely go out soon and I doubt I’ll be able to read Cambria in the morning. (Reading “Cambria Will Not Yield” has become a favorite weekend pastime.)
My family has a well with ample fresh water supply. We had to install it illegally since the government here doesn’t allow us to do that sort of thing without checking off on it first. Sometimes being a criminal has its advantages, especially if the water goes out.
We also have a generator with plenty of gasoline saved up and we’re prepared to ration our food.
We just need hands to hold.
I’ve been thinking lately about what I could say to those white, blue-collar folk who have rejected God and the church because they despise what they hear when they walk into those buildings or associate with Christians. They’re still religious as ever. White folk have that in our blood…religion is in our bones.
But our pagan ancestors were in the same state. They needed to feel that safety. They needed that camaraderie…that link to the divine. But unlike our folk today, they recognized the divine hand when it was offered to them.
Seems like the best hands to hold in times of trouble are the ones with holes in them.
Dear Living God, watch over my family!