Even outside my published area, readers and others know that Houston just had that go to word of at least several days of “unoprecedented” cold. As I start writing on Tuesday, I have taken the option of leaving a house that has been without power for 32 hours with the unknown of heat restored and the results of thawing still part of cloudy future. Much of my concern is consumed with what I can’t do for a vast majority in more dangerous situations than mine. That said, here are the op-ed sequences that may have been part of your story.
Evaluation. I work up Monday morning to know the power was gone because the green light was out on the printer. I padded to the living room to unplug computer and back to a warm bed. When time passed and nothing happened, I went into pioneer mode. Dress in ski clothes and be thankful that a previous moment in life had required those items to be available in a bottom drawer. Light a gas burner with a match. No electricity, no auto pilot starter. Recall making drip coffee and set up percolator to pour hot water over the grounds. Take a moment to revel in the unusual beauty of a white, unmarred front sidewalk, yard, and street. Call children to say at that moment all was well.
Realization Ten-thirty came, and I didn’t have a reassuring message form Center Point saying they knew of my problem and were working on restoring service. Instead their site had crashed from so many questions. The power grid for most of Texas and especially Houston was in difficulty. I began getting did I need help messages from various neighbors checking my one in a household status. Move to stage two and inform a son-in-law that if his four wheel Jeep could be the cavalry to the rescue, I needed to abandon the ship. I wasn’t worrying about mixed metaphors. I gathered what might be overnight supplies, locked the front door, and made it down the sidewalk without slipping.
Acceptance This morning I am in an upstairs bedroom at my daughter’s house with really not a hope of above freezing temperature outside and safe road conditions until Friday. I can’t even get my car out of the garage until power is restored. Bananas are rotting on a counter and food in the refrigerator has passed the 24 hour make it mark. I look up and facing me at the foot of the bed is the chest of drawers from a three piece set of bedroom furniture my mother ordered from New Orleans in the early 1930’s. It was shipped up Black River to Monterrey, Louisiana, by boat. The bed, mine as a child, awaits me to return to Swift Blvd. The set has survived a fire, a flood, five moves, and several hurricanes. Many feel crushed by these days, yet now some of us are survivors as was Nehemiah who came back to Jerusalem after captivity, He surveyed the mess, gathered some helpers around him, and laid out a plan.
I also told them of the gracious hand of my God…..They replied, “Let’s start rebuilding.” So they began the good work.
Nehemiah 2:18
Addendum As I wrote the final words, a text came that Swift had power, one of several on and off times. Some unknowns still exist. One river is crossed. I won’t know the next step until Friday’s thaw. Rebuilding still calls.
Let Me Tell Ya 