The Servant's Quarters

Dark

Over the long weekend (I had Monday off of work for Martin Luther King Jr. Day), we lived under the dire prediction that Michigan was about to be inundated with the worst kind of winter weather. Rain that would freeze on the roads and may driving a life threatening activity. Later in the day on Sunday, the rain was due to turn into snow and bury us under about 2 inches of the stuff. Yuck.

However, it seemed that little of that mess actually materialized. Yes, we got the rain, and while the temperatures plunged enough to coat all the trees in ice (which was beautiful), the roads remained largely wet and not very slippery. By Monday, snow started to fall, but not enough to be of any concern.

I began my holiday by sleeping in. Until 10:00 AM, to be precise. That's something I hadn't done since I was a teenager. I finally rolled out of bed only because my dog, Walker, insisted on leaning over the bed and licking my face. (He's taller than the bed, so this was no problem for him.) I got up, ate a leisurely breakfast, and started a day of puttering around the house doing a lot of small chores.

Until around 4:00 PM.

I was on the computer doing something or other. Suddenly, the screen in front of me died. So did the lights in Homeschool Room. (Otherwise known as the Dining Room that had long ago been inundated with textbooks and school projects. At this particular time, it was the home of a large paper mache bull with some acrobatic guy on its back. The kids had just completed it a bit earlier and it was in the process of drying.) Local power outages are not unusual in the Butler house. Because of the "unusual" electrical wiring that we enjoy, one can black out portions of our home by using the microwave for over 30 seconds without turning off every other light on the circuit.

However, this is not what happened yesterday. Everything in the house was off. The lights flickered on briefly three times, and then all went dark until 10:30 PM.

At first, we were optimistic. The weather wasn't that bad. My theory was that the DTE Energy guys were in the neighborhood trying to repair something, and for their own safety (and my inconvenience), they had shut off the power until the job was done. This was an idea that I shared with two of my neighbors later when the three of us met in the middle of the street to discuss the situation. (Three men who know nothing about the situation offering their "expert" opinions.) Because my idea offered the hope that the blackout would end soon, it was embraced as the absolute truth.

Confident that the power would soon come back, we retreated to our houses.

It had started to get dark, so I broke out the candles, and Rita was well into fixing dinner.

Now, for the kids, this was a huge party. They love blackouts. They didn't care that the heat was off, and the temperature in the house had noticably taken a dive. They didn't care that Rita had just gone to the store two days before and had spent hundreds of dollars on groceries that could spoil if the power stayed off too long. This was darkness, and candles, and fun!

To me, this was a nuisance, and a pain, and not much fun at all. I started to become grouchy. My bad attitude was made worse by their wild enjoyment of the blackout. Suddenly, I realized that monsters in the dark may be a very real danger and that I might be the thing that's going bump in the night. I paced around the house, looking at the darkened neighborhood out of different windows. I could see flashlight beams dancing on the windows in the houses with children, and I knew that in each of them, there was a foul tempered Dad grousing about wasting the batteries and making a lot of noise. (Just like our house.)

Most of us ate dinner together. (Philip and Isaac were at Young Marines and would eat later.) Everything was going fine until Rita asked, "Honey, can I still go out with Michele tonight?"

I groaned. I had forgotten completely that my dear wife had an appointment for coffee with Mrs. Pastor Philip. My jaw muscles clinched at the idea of managing a powerless house. Of keeping control of six kids without the benefit of electricity. Of facing the cold, dark, lonely night of Butler House without the company and assistance of my helpmeet.

Somewhere, deep in my brain, a response formed and headed towards my mouth -

"Mind? Why should I mind? I can't imagine anything easier than trying to keep track of 6 highly excited children and one dog in a cold place where I can't see a thing while you drink coffee and eat bon bons with your friend in some warm, lighted, comfortable restaurant somewhere. I mean, I really love it. Take your time. Feel free to stay out all night."

I told you I was a bit testy. Fortunately, my Husband Survival Instinct, honed by nearly 20 years of marriage, took over, intercepted the message before it could be uttered, and edited it down to this less inflamatory response -

"Of course not, dear. Have a good time."

That was close.

So we hunkered down. I got the little kids to bed, and they fell asleep fast enough. Nathanael and I played Parcheesi outside their room so I could be sure that there were no scary moments and the candle on their dresser wasn't going to be played with. Isaac and Philip came home from Young Marines, and while they ate a late supper, Nathanael turned in. Liv eventually showed up, and while my three eldest had fun, I sat in the living room listening to old time radio and Thru The Bible on my Pocket PC. Eventually, all the children were in bed, and I had the house to myself. I spent some time playing with the dog in front of the fire, and I had just begun wondering if I should start moving food from the refrigerator to the garage or should I go downstairs and haul up the cold weather sleeping bags when God answered my prayers.

The lights came back on.

Wonderful. I turned on the heat and started resetting the clocks. Suddenly, I realized that all the children who I had previously put to bed were running around the upstairs screaming about the power coming back. They had immediately gotten into a competition around blowing out all the candles in the house.

Sigh.

The lights were on. The kids were up. All was sorta right with the world.