Our power is out again. I really need to stop giving it fun money and time off. (see last post) When I realized at 12:45am that the intense thunderstorms had once again knocked out our electricity, my heart sank. The first time this happened two weeks ago it was rather fun, but today I just thought, "What in the world am I going to do with myself all day?" Most days the time flies as I make breakfast (toast and coffee, neither of which I can have this morning), begin the work day on the computer, do some laundry, and fix dinner. Some days I am up for a little spontaneity. Today is not one of those days. Nonetheless, I tried to gear my mind into creative mode. What beneficial things can I do today which don't require electricity? So I pulled out my paints, brushes, and cardstock and got to work on building my supply of notecards. Other tasks on today's to-do list include: reading more of "The Grace Awakening" by Charles Swindoll, going to the church to lend an administrative hand on a project, perhaps organizing my art supplies, making a grocery list for next week, and spending extra time playing with Ainsley - maybe we'll even go for a walk! Hmmmm...all of a sudden, it sounds like a productive and energizing day. I can't wait to begin!
P.S. Almost as soon as I had finished writing the above paragraph, I heard the beep of the microwave clock, the humming of the refrigerator, and the whirring of the ceiling fan. Bummer, now my plans are changing again! What do you suppose I did first? I turned on the computer, reset the clocks, and made a strong pot of coffee. I gained something valuable this morning - 30 half finished notecards and a better appreciation of how little control I have over my life. With just a word, the Lord send thunder & lightening so powerful that the electric power which runs everything upon which I depend is rendered ineffective.
Does the rain have a father?
Who fathers the drops of dew?
and can your voice thunder like his?
What is the way to the place where the lightning is dispersed,
or the place where the east winds are scattered over the earth?
Who cuts a channel for the torrents of rain,
and a path for the thunderstorm,
to water a land where no man lives,
a desert with no one in it,
to satisfy a desolate wasteland
and make it sprout with grass?