Crystal-Glazed World
I’m feeling far more guilty than usual about this time I’m spending on the computer.
Last Monday evening between three and four inches of rain fell in our area. Much of it froze when it came in contact with surfaces like power lines and tree limbs. Our power went off at 9:00 p. m. on Monday and is not yet restored at 9:00 on Saturday evening. I am typing with a generator-powered computer, which I’m told is dangerous to the computer’s innards because of the possibility of power level fluctuations. Hence the guilt.
The generator is borrowed from my brother-in-law, Marvin, whose residence got their power back about this time last night. Until then, we hauled in water and huddled in the semi-darkness every evening till we could justify bundling into bed for another long night. Having lights and music and water feels right now like Christmas come early.
Line crews have come here from far flung places such as Virginia and Pennsylvania to help restore order to our electrical infrastructure. In the three-mile drive between our house and Partridge, a number of power poles are snapped off, lines sag or dangle-- broken, cross-ties on the poles are wrenched loose and hang jaggedly, insulators are separated from the crosspieces and dangle uselessly from the lines, a line is stretched on the ground across the road. . . . It’s all quite astonishing.
The lines will eventually be repaired, and the result will be better than it was before the storm–newer poles and better fastening methods, etc. But the trees are a different story. On Monday evening as we sat around the dining room table in the near-dark, we counted the sharp cracks and rain of “glass” as branch after branch lost its struggle to support the ice-load it had accumulated. Each time it happened, my heart broke a little too. Two eastern red cedars that have been here for fifty years lost their tops, forever ruining the trees’ distinctive pyramid shape. The ubiquitous Siberian elms are in shambles, with huge bare grotesque branches left almost alone on the trees just south of the house. The “hedge” (Osage Orange) trees are as tough as ever, with very little damage. Cleanup is hampered by the ten inches of snow that fell last night and this morning, so right now things feel a little out of control.
Church was canceled last Wed. eve. and is canceled for tomorrow. We had two snow days from school, and finally resumed with generator power for the grade school where there is still no electricity from the grid.
During one of the dark days of being indoors I read Emma, a Widow Among the Amish, which is hot off the press. It was written by a man I’ve known ever since he was three years old about his mother, who was always part of our church till she died about ten years ago. The story talks about lots of people I know and events I remember and has a cover quote written by my father. Reading that book in this season gave me insight into a memory I want to write about in another blog.
Today I read Blood Brothers for the second time. I was profoundly moved the first time I read this story, and no less so this time around. (That’s one of the blessings of a short memory–Things can feel new and wonderful several times over.) Elias Chacour’s early training to love his enemies, to suffer wrong rather than to commit it, to trust God always, to speak to Him as a friend–all these felt familiar to me. I loved reading about someone who grew up half a world away from here who was taught and guided by the same Scriptures that guided my upbringing. He treasures his upbringing as I treasure mine.
The reading I did was a bit of a guilty pleasure because I had piles of grading to do. Somehow I couldn’t muster the energy to strain my eyes the necessary amount to undertake grading. Reading worked when I held the book up just right so the light from the window shone on the pages.
It’s a little embarrassing to realize how inconvenienced we feel when we’re deprived of the creature comforts to which we’ve become accustomed. We’re supposed to be resourceful Amish after all, but we seem to be no better off than all the “worldlings” around us when an ice storm comes calling. Except that we are sure still that God is with us, and we can trust Him to hold us close, no matter how chaotic this ice-encrusted world feels right now.
Last Monday evening between three and four inches of rain fell in our area. Much of it froze when it came in contact with surfaces like power lines and tree limbs. Our power went off at 9:00 p. m. on Monday and is not yet restored at 9:00 on Saturday evening. I am typing with a generator-powered computer, which I’m told is dangerous to the computer’s innards because of the possibility of power level fluctuations. Hence the guilt.
The generator is borrowed from my brother-in-law, Marvin, whose residence got their power back about this time last night. Until then, we hauled in water and huddled in the semi-darkness every evening till we could justify bundling into bed for another long night. Having lights and music and water feels right now like Christmas come early.
Line crews have come here from far flung places such as Virginia and Pennsylvania to help restore order to our electrical infrastructure. In the three-mile drive between our house and Partridge, a number of power poles are snapped off, lines sag or dangle-- broken, cross-ties on the poles are wrenched loose and hang jaggedly, insulators are separated from the crosspieces and dangle uselessly from the lines, a line is stretched on the ground across the road. . . . It’s all quite astonishing.
The lines will eventually be repaired, and the result will be better than it was before the storm–newer poles and better fastening methods, etc. But the trees are a different story. On Monday evening as we sat around the dining room table in the near-dark, we counted the sharp cracks and rain of “glass” as branch after branch lost its struggle to support the ice-load it had accumulated. Each time it happened, my heart broke a little too. Two eastern red cedars that have been here for fifty years lost their tops, forever ruining the trees’ distinctive pyramid shape. The ubiquitous Siberian elms are in shambles, with huge bare grotesque branches left almost alone on the trees just south of the house. The “hedge” (Osage Orange) trees are as tough as ever, with very little damage. Cleanup is hampered by the ten inches of snow that fell last night and this morning, so right now things feel a little out of control.
Church was canceled last Wed. eve. and is canceled for tomorrow. We had two snow days from school, and finally resumed with generator power for the grade school where there is still no electricity from the grid.
During one of the dark days of being indoors I read Emma, a Widow Among the Amish, which is hot off the press. It was written by a man I’ve known ever since he was three years old about his mother, who was always part of our church till she died about ten years ago. The story talks about lots of people I know and events I remember and has a cover quote written by my father. Reading that book in this season gave me insight into a memory I want to write about in another blog.
Today I read Blood Brothers for the second time. I was profoundly moved the first time I read this story, and no less so this time around. (That’s one of the blessings of a short memory–Things can feel new and wonderful several times over.) Elias Chacour’s early training to love his enemies, to suffer wrong rather than to commit it, to trust God always, to speak to Him as a friend–all these felt familiar to me. I loved reading about someone who grew up half a world away from here who was taught and guided by the same Scriptures that guided my upbringing. He treasures his upbringing as I treasure mine.
The reading I did was a bit of a guilty pleasure because I had piles of grading to do. Somehow I couldn’t muster the energy to strain my eyes the necessary amount to undertake grading. Reading worked when I held the book up just right so the light from the window shone on the pages.
It’s a little embarrassing to realize how inconvenienced we feel when we’re deprived of the creature comforts to which we’ve become accustomed. We’re supposed to be resourceful Amish after all, but we seem to be no better off than all the “worldlings” around us when an ice storm comes calling. Except that we are sure still that God is with us, and we can trust Him to hold us close, no matter how chaotic this ice-encrusted world feels right now.
posted by Mrs. I at
7:35 PM
1 Comments:
My heart goes out to you "Kansans", not only for the inconveniences you've endured and the hard work of the cleanup, but also the more permanent damage to trees, etc. Knowing your community, I'm sure everyone will be busy helping each other out. God Bless!
Mary M. from IN
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Anonymous, at 12/16/2007
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