The power has been out before. In the ten years I have been writing daily vignettes Mother Nature has periodically flexed her muscles to remind us who is boss. Sometimes I could keep chugging because the electricity was intact at the office, or I could ping out syllables with one finger on my stalwart phone. I still marvel that she carries on in an outage. For awhile anyway.
But today even the truncated pandemic routine was askew.
I can't vacuum, but I can sweep.
No laundry will happen though I can clean the bathroom.
The toaster and microwave are on strike but the stove relies on gas.
The dishwasher is silent but we have running water and soap.
The sewing machine is on hiatus but there are needles and fabric.
No music will flow from the speakers but the guitar is ready.
There will be no zooming, though walking is an option.
Then came the cavalry.
Local Odhners alerted far flung ones about the lack of juice. A thread... no a steel cable of commentary kept my waning phone dinging like an enthusiastic percussionist in the 1812 Overture. Five wage earning siblings in four states flooded my feed with information about generator sizes, amps, voltage, cost to buy, availability, rental options and offers to fund it.
"The store in Philly has some but it is closed because of protests."
"Here is the number of a place with inventory."
What eventually... and by eventually I mean a matter of forty minutes.... transpired was the three kids at home headed up the road, made one left turn into the parking lot, an attendant opened the trunk and set the generator inside, put the invoice beside it and closed the trunk. Then they came home.
The son who works at Home Depot and is therefore savvy about such things made the reservation and paid for it. Having quickly divided the total by three, four of his sisters and brothers sent money on Venmo before the generator was even turned on.
"Wait. I got paid too much."
"No take backs," said his sister.
I sit here now in the comfort of my living room, with that magical invisible force called Wifi at my beck and call, the refrigerator humming in the background, and four beloved family members on laptops beside me.
While our fiasco-turned-rescue feels like a personal miracle, it is my core belief that each of us has their own dedicated support team on duty. They are sometimes referred to as angels.
"She is getting discouraged. I am inserting one of her favorite songs on Spotify. Music always does the trick."
"A pair of cardinals are in the yard, and I am deploying them to catch his attention. They bring up good memories."
"It is time for us to wake up the dog and get him to curl up at her feet. That usually cheers her up."
Sometimes they utilize unsuspecting humans.
"I am heading to the grocery store. Need anything?"
"I know you couldn't have us in person at your party so we are doing a drive by!"
The magical part is, people like you and me think we came up with the idea all by ourselves. Angels may be invisible, but they are as real as it gets.
"God loves each and every human being; and because He cannot do good to them directly, but only indirectly by means of other people, He therefore breathes into people His love." True Christianity 457
