A Light in the Dark

Last Monday was President’s Day, a holiday set aside to honor the memory of two of our nation’s most important presidents, George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. And for the past 18 years, it has also been a day off work for me, which I'm always excited about.

I had a lot of plans for President’s Day weekend this year, a lot of writing goals I wanted to accomplish. Unfortunately, Mother Nature had other ideas. Thanks to the snow and ice storm that struck Texas, life as we know it basically came to a stand still for the entire week.

I can hear my northern friends laughing now. I have no doubt the amount of winter weather we received last week is a minor inconvenience if one is accustomed to such things. But if you live in Texas, or anywhere in the South, you’ll understand that receiving two bouts of sleet, freezing rain, and ten inches of snow, as well as enduring over 200 hours straight of below freezing temperatures can be very problematic. Couple that with lack of electricity and water, and the situation becomes almost apocalyptic in nature.

To put it quite simply, we’re just not equipped to deal with that kind of weather. We don’t have the resources nor the equipment to help us function in those types of situations. On the rare occasions we do receive ice or snow, it is usually gone by the next day. Never in my lifetime has it lingered so long or so powerfully.

I woke up at 5:40 a.m. on President’s Day to realize that I was without electricity and the temperature was rapidly dropping inside my house. I do have two small gas heaters, one in the kitchen and the other in my bathroom, but they are only large enough to heat a small area, certainly not enough to heat the entire house. I put on two layers of clothes, sat in a chair near the heater in the kitchen, and tried to read a book.

My dad showed up on my doorstep a couple of hours later, having braved the snow to drive the short distance between our houses to check on me. Cell service had been knocked out, as well, so I had been unable to reach him or my mother. They were fortunate to have a gas heater, so he invited me to stay with them. I gratefully accepted the offer.

As it turned out, I was not the only relative my parents would take in that day. My uncle, two aunts, and a cousin would all be forced to seek refuge there as none of them had any heat, either. All total, seven adults, three dogs, and a cat stayed with my parents for the next five days. Thankfully, their house is large and there was enough room for everyone.

We lost water on Wednesday, which presented another set of challenges. My dad began shoveling buckets of snow to melt down to use for flushing toilets. One bucket of snow equaled about two to three inches of water, so it required quite a bit for all of us.

I know I've mentioned my love for the Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. For a few days, I felt almost as if I were living inside the pages of one of her books. I kept thinking of The Long Winter, which describes how her family lived through the seven months of constant blizzards on the Dakota prairie. One of the things this past week has taught me is that I may enjoy reading and writing stories set in the 1800's, but I am incredibly glad I didn't have to live in that time period ;)

As the hours passed and each day blurred into another, I couldn’t help but wonder if there would ever be an end to the nightmare. Would the sun ever shine again? Would the snow and ice ever melt and leave us in peace? Depression began to set in for all of us.

That night, as we all sat around my parents’ living room in the dark, my aunt suggested we have a time of prayer. We went around the circle, each of us taking a moment to pray aloud. We thanked God that we were all safe and well and asked for His help in restoring electricity and water. We all shed a few tears, allowing ourselves a moment of emotional release during a stressful and scary situation.

It wasn’t as if we hadn’t already been praying for these things. I’m sure we all spent time praying on our own as the week progressed. I know I did. Even so, praying together as a family lifted our spirits. The darkness hadn’t lessened or disappeared, but somehow it didn’t feel as thick and oppressive as it had before. The spark of hope that had begun to flicker faintly had strengthened, burning more strongly than before. It was a beautiful moment, one that I will remember for the rest of my life.

The power came back on the next morning, and we rejoiced. Now that the stove was working once more, my mom cooked a magnificent breakfast and we celebrated a return to partial normalcy. It was a few more days before water came back on, but by the following Monday, exactly one week since the nightmare began, things were mostly back to normal.

Not that normal will ever be exactly the same. I think we have all been affected by the experience in one way or another. It has made me appreciate the things we take for granted every day, like clean drinking water and a warm house. It’s given me a greater appreciation for family and how precious those relationships are. It’s reminded me yet again of all the ways in which God takes care of us.

I’m so thankful to my parents. I’m sure they never expected six people to invade their home for the week, but they graciously allowed us to stay. I’m grateful for the pastor of my aunts’ and uncle’s church, who stopped by twice a day to see if we needed anything and delivered bottled water and some nonperishable food items. I’m grateful that all my friends and family survived the week. Many others didn’t. As bad as our situation was, I know it could have been much, much worse.

Most of all, I’m thankful for God’s love. It will never disappear or abandon us, even when we are in the darkest of circumstances. It will beam as bright as the midday sun, filling our hearts with truth and light, and creating the desire to share it with others we meet along the way.

And we must heed its call. Only then can we truly become a light in the dark.