For the last few weeks, my husband and I have parked ourselves in my mother-in-law’s home. Mom lives in a very nice retirement community in the heart of California’s wine country—Sonoma County. There is more down time here than we’re used to, which is why we spend an inordinate amount of time taking walks. Oddly, we don’t see many people out and about during these strolls.
Until last Wednesday.
If you live in California, or even catch an occasional news broadcast, you know that many of us were dealing with a wide-spread power outage—or as the Santa Rosa Press Democrat stated on the front page, Historic Blackout. The local utility company’s pre-emptive strike against the possibility of a fire. Two years ago, this community suffered through the horrendous Tubbs Fire, which destroyed multiple homes and caused several deaths. Rather than risk a repeat of the devastation, Pacific Gas & Electric Company shut off the power due to predicted high winds at midnight on Tuesday. Eerie silence and total darkness prevailed during the early-morning and late-night hours for the next couple of days.
And it changed the dynamics of the neighborhood.
Unlike the norm where houses are shut down and no one is in sight, people were out and about, talking with their neighbors, walking their dogs or jogging. It was as if the loss of electricity and technology drove everyone from their self-imposed isolation. And it made me wonder—how easy is it for us to believe we are connected just because we’re distracted? Being glued to our televisions, computers, social media and telephones is a sad substitute for real community. With the loss of such, people find that they’re not so comfortable in isolation.
Rather than our lone walks, residents were waving at us or stopping us so their dog could meet ours. Discussions, started over mutual frustration due to the power loss, shifted to deeper topics and lots of laughter. That’s what I noticed the most—the laughter. I think the friendliest place we found was the local deli/market. Although they, too, were without power, they found a way to offer hot coffee, donuts and, most coveted, ice. They wanted to be a bright light (when none could be found) where everyone could commune and be re-energized. “The coffee’s a little weak, not up to my usual espresso shots,” one woman told me with a smile. “But it’s hot. And that’s all I can ask for.”
It reminds me that most often, when a community is thrown into a stressful situation, there is more good than grumbling to be found. But my question is why can’t we be that way all the time? Maybe God designs such incidents to remind us of the goodness of humanity. It’s too bad that once the disaster is over, we all go back to the status quo. Maybe we can be the change we want to see!
Comments 3
Jennifer, It’s not often that I sit down to take a moment to read your blog, but when I do, it’s a little indulgence of some much needed refreshing words. Not only because of the lively and relevant stories you share but because it always hits so close to home. in this instance, literally and figuratively. So many times I take for granted the people I love will always be around for me to talk to or hang out with “when I have time”. These days, it seems I never have time to just relish in fellowship but as our preacher says, we all have the same 24 hours. It’s a good reminder to just breath and take time to stop and smell the roses, in this case fellowship.
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Amen, Sister!
This reminds me of when we lost power during our back-to-back hurricanes in 2004. Neighbors were out helping neighbors, and talking to ones they hadn’t before. Afterward, everyone went back to life as it was before, though now, they would wave when they saw someone. It’s nice to know they will be there for you when they’re needed, though, and sometimes, that’s enough.