I walk into the bathroom and turn on the electric switch. Nothing happens. For three days nothing has happened. I know the power is out. I still reach for the switch. Habits are strong.
The computer is off. I walk past my office and look at the screen. It’s still off. I still look.
I think often about wanting time to read and to write. With no access to Internet and no power for television, this would be a perfect opportunity. But I can’t sit still. I can’t let what might happen tomorrow simply happen tomorrow.
It is remarkably easy to blame the rough-running of the neighbor’s generator for the rough-running of my thoughts. And then to generate a low-voltage current of blame that wears down my motor.
It is hot, I suppose, but exercise will make me perspire anyway. And might help alleviate the uncertainty about when the power might come on. Instead, I wait for what might happen. I wait for a day, then another.
It seems that my agenda is more driven by the tools that are working than I thought. I could be working and resting, following the daylight, enjoying the restoration than can come from disconnection. Instead, I am feeling disconnected.
I am grateful for what I am learning about ingratitude during this time. We have water. We have hot water. We have a grill. We can even use the stove (if I light it manually). We have a frenchpress for coffee. Our house wasn’t hit by any trees.
I read from Acts on Sunday morning. I realized that the early church never cancelled services because the electricity was out. It was the right choice for our church on Sunday, but I’m thinking a lot about how much I depend on the wrong energy sources.” via Musings during a power outage. | 300 words a day.
Hmmm. We live in a rural area so when our power goes out, we lose our water too making it even harder to be grateful. Still I love Jon’s perspective…
Bright, shiny objects! 
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