Natural Disasters

Here I am, again, battening-down the hatches on my own. I can't tell you how many natural disasters David missed. The first major event was when my son was days old. David was on the west coast and we were experiencing a major ice storm and extreme cold – below zero temperatures. We lost power, so lost heat – and the fireplace wasn’t cutting it. And there was this precious little newborn. I can still recall what he was wearing the moment I made the decision to call a local hotel that somehow had power and got a room – then very carefully drove the few miles to warmth and light and safety. He was wearing a little white sleeper with light blue trim. But that was not going to be able to keep him warm enough.

A few years ago, oddly severe winter weather hit central Virginia again. We got something like 6 feet of snow in just a few weeks. One storm dumped over 3 feet in a day. (David was in Tucson, I think -- ARIZONA). It’s sort of fun for an evening – or even a day – to pioneer. I like to use my hog-scraper candle stick (a la Williamsburg) with the hurricane glass and my oil lamp. I always have a full pantry, so food isn’t an issue. I keep numerous gallons of water stored at all times. And it’s a great opportunity to play cards or a board game when movies aren’t available. But it gets old when you can’t get a shower and when you start to get cold. And then there’s the work. Yeh, it was me and the kids shoveling the snow off of the deck to keep it from collapsing – and maintaining a trail from the doggie door to the closest patch of buried grass (because the dog couldn’t walk in the deep stuff AT ALL). We managed to keep the front walk clear and continuously shoveled tire tracks down the driveway. It was exhausting.

Of course this summer’s Derecho was equally as challenging. Instead of freezing temps, we had over 100 degree temps with no power and no water. There are blessings in and about these storms. Togetherness is imposed on you. Neighbors come out of their homes and help each other . You recognize clearly how convenient life is in a first-world nation and how amazing the infrastructure in the United States really is and the inconvenience teaches you how to manage without. The chirren' have learned how to fend during these times – how to be prepared and how to address the problem of no stove, no running water and no climate control – how to not give in without a fight (not unless freezing to death looms fearfully). Ha.

My kids have learned a lot from different kinds of natural disasters, as have I. I think that losing your dad is a disaster – and his cancer and death were somewhat “natural.” Disaster [dih-‘zas-ter] noun: a calamitous event, especially one occurring suddenly and causing great loss of life, damage, or hardship, as a flood, airplane crash, or business failure. Yeh, hardship. Heartbreak. Our family has known loss from a plane crash, too. It's true.  Uncanny, isn’t it? But I was writing about learning therefrom … so what would that be?

How to not panic in the face of really frightening medical information; how to get a full-sized man, who has fallen, back into a chair; how to navigate through any given hospital; how to evade hospital rules and regulations; how to stop yourself from crying … or screaming; how to socialize with other hospital patients; how to redirect your beloved’s anger, frustration, sorrow, or pain; how to know when to just freaking leave the room; how to give an injection; how to graciously receive gifts of food, flowers and other such stuff; how to behave in a funeral home; how to maintain your composure at a Memorial Service and at a graveside service; how to keep living when you want to lay down and not; how to get through Christmas when there’s a loomingly empty chair around the tree; how to wear your father’s shoes – or his shirt – and only feel comforted; how to keep on keeping on when you shouldn’t have to; how to let yourself cry – even sob; how to pray again – with thanksgiving; how to reach out to others in empathy – and love; how to begin to see beyond your own pain; how to worship with real joy; how to remember with gentleness instead of angst; how to continue living …

My kids had already been to no fewer than three funerals by the time they were maybe 3. I went to my grandfather’s funeral when I was about 6 months pregnant with my daughter. They were born lacking one of two grandmothers … then lost a grandfather. They lost two great-grandmothers. That’s three funerals … then a beloved uncle. Awful. Then their father. I have adult friends older than I am with two parents living! I have no grandparents. I have no parents. They have one parent and two grandparents. They are 20 and 18. Natural disaster. Damn.

So the wind blows … and the storms come and go. I love wind and I love rain and I love severe weather – but I hate natural disasters. I hate unnatural disasters, too. There have been too many of those -- plane crashes … heart surgeries gone bad …. car accidents. Yep. Unbelievable. Lessons learned?

Life is painful. Life is full of loss and sorrow – but life is also full of joy and beauty and an amazing amount of love. That’s what keeps us going. That’s the biggest lesson of all: Love is real. Love is important. Love is sustaining. Without love – without people TO love and to love YOU, life is meaningless. Sometimes that’s all you have left, but it’s worthy of your time, attention and energy. Love.

Just look at the big disasters that have hit humanity. What stands out? The way people reach out to other people with loving care. Victims of earthquake or tsunami – flooding or fire. People LOVE other people, regardless of their color, creed or culture. Natural disasters are eerily edifying. God is there – with multi-colored faces. Some dear friends of mine just returned from loving-on some Haitians. The time, attention and money showered upon them was not showered on our American neighbors, as some believe they should have been -- but these suffering beloved are also children of God! Natural disasters have no prejudice. They don’t segregate. Instead, they miraculously congeal humanity.

Neighbors have checked-in with me and I've checked-in with my neighbors. We're all looking out for each other -- loving each other. Wow -- blessing in the throes of disaster. It rather makes life worth living, don't you think?