Family Storms and Outages

All of the snow, winds and power outages we were experiencing in Washington State initiated a lot of conversation. Much of that conversation centered on past years when we had lived through similar outages. Family times when we had spent time close together because there was no heat, no lights and roads were too bad to get out and wander.

In the later years of my children’s growing up, we lived in Auburn, Washington. Due to heavy winds and snow storms, we approached most every Thanksgiving wondering if the turkey would completely roast before the power went out from a tree branch or heavy snows on the power lines. Many were the years that the popping and brilliant lights of overloaded transformers damaged in the winds would explode. One such year comes to mind vividly. My daughter was in her early teens and my son nearing 8 or so. The power went out with the turkey in the oven. My husband worked at the wonderful little community hospital in the valley. When the power went out, he would stay at the hospital, sleep on the x-ray table at times and say that he needed to be near work. In reality, at the hospital he had electricity, lights, hot water, television and all the amenities for a comfortable life.

At home, with no lights, heat, hot water or television, the children and I had to fend for ourselves. We pushed the couch up close to the fireplace, started a roaring fire and settled in to play board games or whatever. It was a family time and I so enjoyed just being with my children. We had a very busy lifestyle with all their outside activities and planned family times of camping and other outings so we could just be together. Good thing! My father, very active in the boy scouts, had taken the family camping massive times as I was growing up. We learned to tie knots, live without in tents and so forth. Wonderful family memories that helped during outages! My husband also took us camping, but we didn’t really do without much. He had also been a boy scout and gone on rendezvous in mid-winter in the snow ridden Midwest. We all knew how cold snowstorms could get.

With that bit of background, let’s get back to the family experience during the Thanksgiving outage. The turkey stayed in the oven, in the Hope that power would save it and it could live out its Destiny! The children and I stayed comfortable near the fire. If wood was needed, I went out back and got logs and chopped them up myself. I had never had to chop wood in my youth. It scared the heck out of me to have to use an ax. “Stay in the house. I going to chop up some wood,” I told the children. My son always wanted to be where I was. In my mind, I envisioned the head of the ax flying off and hitting my son. The whole scenario of my having to use an ax scared me to death. After awhile, I moved the chopping action into the garage where it was warmer and protected from the winds and falling debris. The door was to be kept closed while I was working in there!

With wood for the fire, it was time to consider sustenance for the body. We used cast iron skillets to cook hamburgers on the open fire in the fireplace. We didn’t go without. God gave us what we needed. The children and I survived the outage, together. Each outage or snowstorm experience left me stronger, even more independent and sadly aware that my family was actually the children and myself.

The experience described was the last outage that I remember my children and I spending together. My daughter got older which included a boyfriend. When the snow fell and streets were closed, she stayed with her boyfriend and his family. They had snowmobiles which we couldn’t compete with at home. My son stayed loyal and was always there. His friends would come to our house as much as he would go to theirs.

Somewhere, in the loss of innocence being taken from a little girl to a woman who protected and took care of her children at all costs, even my womanhood was taken from me. The women of early America had to chop wood and do for their families, but their husband was there doing with them. If he couldn’t be there to chop the wood, he was out plowing a field. The fight for women’s rights actually took away our right to be a woman. A Blessed memory for me is my father and my brother doing things for my mother.

The times spent alone and enjoying my children will be etched in my memory for my entire life. Looking deeper, past the frustration and fear of the ax, lies the pleasure and purity of family. The Truth is there. The wonder of memories is their abiltiy to filter. We dictate that filter. Memories can be pure and uplifting or they can be dark and destructive. Family survives when it sticks together. Parents are a Blessing to be honored. Memories like these are a part of what helps us to get through the outages and storms of life.