Power Hungry

This morning, each additional hour of power is a gift! Ramallah is engulfed in a storm which alternates rain, sleet, hail, downy snow, and a fog so dense and luminous it gives the impression we have already died and ascended to the pearly gates.

I feel rather desperate about the likely loss of power. All my electronics are plugged in, and I am prepared to turn screen brightness down to the minimum setting to conserve battery power once the fateful hour arrives. 

Storefronts downtown are shuttered. The air is, for the first time since my arrival in August, completely clear of the sounds of traffic. A candle wavers on the coffee table. 

I’m amazed by my own fear of the loss of power. It will be cold. I won’t have internet. I won’t be able to keep my Skype date with my sister. The refrigerator will die. Water will run weak and cold. How will I survive? 

Last night I visited my neighbour Elizabeth, Friend in Residence at RFS. We discussed the storm and the psychological state it has thrown us into. She pointed out that the refugee families down at Kalandia, and the Bedouin families in neighbouring villages, woke up without any hope of power or internet today. Can I adopt their attitude? Can I muster some perspective, and recognise that I will be ok through this storm? 

School starts on Monday, and part of my mind is preparing for the unpredictable storms this quarter will surely bring. I might have blustery classes, blustery interactions with students or parents, stormy results on a quiz I thought the class was prepared for… I will be ok. 

Storms in our faith journeys (and teaching is my faith journey right now) are like storms in nature in that they are beautiful in their destructive energy. Sometimes there is the clatter of lightning in the classroom, but I see with better clarity when the clouds clear. Even when I feel shipwrecked by the storms, God washes me up on a new shore and I realise I do have the tools I need to be ok. 

Each hour is a gift, even if we do lose power. Each hour is a gift because it’s a reminder that we have what we need, and that no matter what storms rage, we’ll be ok.