We’re sitting in the flickering light of a couple of candles, windows wide open to try and compensate for the lack of air conditioning and listening to sounds of the unfamiliarly dark night. Our power was knocked out by a mini tornado that ripped through our neighbourhood earlier on this week.
A hot, humid day suddenly became overcast and dark. Mobile phones dinged with tornado warning alarms, and, as we headed to the basement, we watched the powerful wind sweep in. The paddling pool flips over, toys topple and trees bend. Leaves, twigs and even weighty branches dance to the fierce tune of the storm.
A storm that is over within minutes, and yet leaves devastation.
The deadened trees in our garden have shed branches. But, as we tentatively venture outside in the strangely calm aftermath, we realise that the scattered demolition in our garden is nothing in comparison to what has happened all around the surrounding streets and gardens. Enormous trees are uprooted. Ancient trees are felled and blocking the road. One house has a tree-sized branch intruding through their roof.
And yet the night has become a balmy, idyllic summer’s evening. The sun reappears, and the community survey the damage. We hear the odd generator kicking in, and envy the light we see through their windows. Sympathetic shock echoes along adjacent front yards, as people exclaim, empathise and help shift the debris.
It happened on Monday, and as we head into hot, sticky Wednesday night, we’re ready for the inconvenience to end.
Thankfully, it seems that no-one has been hurt. And nothing of ours has been damaged. We’re grateful that a neighbour has allowed us to hook up our fridge via extension cord to his power, and for friends who have fed us.
2020 rages on, seemingly bringing one thing after the next. And we’re all the more thankful that we’re not at the mercy of circumstances, but rest in the unchanging mercy and love of Christ.
(And yay for a splash pad down the road to cool off in!)