Originally published 1/24/16
We're on day 5 of no modern water source. A cold snap last Monday zapped both the water pump (that brings water into the house) and the well pump (that pumps water from the well into the holding tank under the house).
This is above ground.
We have a delightful new plumber, Mr. Henley, who spent three days at our house last week before giving up Friday morning. On Wednesday we had a glimmer of hope that all might be restored, but alas, the water remained in the ground. The well people (appropriately named Jacob's Well Drilling) were not completely empathetic to our situation when I called them Friday morning, and advised us to be patient and see if the well will begin pumping again. The situation was particularly frustrating because it was pouring rain outside. Every major metropolitan area on the Eastern seaboard was sitting still under a blanket of snow, and we, on top of the Holy Mountain, were only getting pelted with rain. As I bid the plumber adieu, I decided I would work out, and take a well-deserved second shower of the week at the gym. I went downstairs to check on the dehumidifier, only to see the rugs around it floating in an inch of water. Are you kidding me? I almost sat down on the steps and cried. At the end of a week with no water, no showering, no dishwashing, no handwashing, hairwashing, or any other regular ablution, Michael was in class and Isabel at school, and we had water floating the rugs in the basement. I was at my wits' end. If I had time to cry just then, I would have. But Michael was in class for another hour, and this problem could not wait for him to solve it. I've been on my own before. I remind myself that I am a Strong Powerful Girl (which is tattooed on my hip, by the way), and I can handle this. I have to. I noticed the water was just about to reach the downstairs bedroom, with hardwood, beds, rugs and chairs. At least the middle hallway is concrete, and a little water doesn't hurt it much. So autopilot kicks in, and I picked up the three rugs that usually cover the concrete floor and dumped them in the bathtub. I created a moat with some towels and swept the creeping water into a bowl little by little, and threw it out the downstairs door. As soon as I eliminated the immediate threat, I remembered ShopVacs - those vacuum cleaners that suck up water and dirt. I used to have one, but I'm sure it was flooded - ironically - in Greenville. I drove through the rain to the Monteagle Hardware store, hoping defiantly that they would have one. I didn't have time for a 30 minute drive to Winchester to the Home Depot. The water was continuing to come in from under the stairs. In the few minutes it takes to drive the 8 miles to Monteagle, I wondered, can I walk into the hardware store and ask for a ShopVac without bursting into tears? This isn't an Ace Hardware with decorative mailboxes, springy garden hoses and boxes of assorted nails. It's an actual hardware store full of burly contractors who are buying quantities of pipe, nails and wood that they are using to renovate houses, not spruce up the yard or hang a picture. I wandered around for only a minute, and, recognizing nothing, headed up front to wait my turn. I told the hurried clerk that my well was dry and my basement was wet, and he pointed me to Aisle 1. He didn't really care about either of my problems. The ShopVac was the thing. Everyone should have one. Vac-ed up 15 gallons of water in just a couple of minutes. If you don't have one, go out and get one. Now. I picked up Michael from school and gave him all of the bad news. Alright, he said, let's go get some water. I can't believe there is water creeping into my basement, water flowing down the mountain in all kinds of pop-up waterfalls, and I have to go to the store and buy water. Which has led me to examine lately what it means to trust in the Lord. How do you trust in God when it comes to earthly matters? I get how to trust in him to get us to Heaven. But, rather, how do we place our earthly lives, and the infinitely gory number of details in our lives, in the hands of a Heavenly being? I've been reading in my daily devotional, Jesus Calling, (I also have the app, which actually calls me each morning to read it) a lot about trust, and trusting in God on a daily basis. Through the everyday trials of life, and the big ones too. Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Deuteronomy 31:6 I think trust entails letting go (and letting God, as they say), but I don't yet understand how you let go when 6 feet of water are in your basement, or the plumber has yet to arrive. Michael's good at that stuff. His first response is always to wait. Mine is to move, take some kind of action, make something - or someone - go somewhere. Does my despair mean that I do not trust that God would move that water out of our basement, or restart our pump? Is that even his job? This isn't my first ride on the I-don't-trust-God's-control-of-this-situation rodeo. On our journey to seminary, there were a lot of times when I thought action was necessary because other people (or is it God?) weren't moving at the pace I needed them to. To get to seminary, you are put in the charge of a committee of people who meet irregularly, and a diocesan staff with a lot of other things to do than get you to seminary. Michael was quite content to sit still and wait on their next directive. While, had it been up to me, many choice words would have been expressed and many feet would have been stomped. I mean, I had a house to move, two children to get into school, a business to relocate, and a new life to start. There were a lot of things to do. But I could not do any of them until a committee of people said it was ok that we came. Did I not trust that God would get us to seminary? We're here, aren't we?
At seminary, left: Michael after receiving his academic gown from Annwn Myers. The seminarians wear academic gowns to class, just like in Harry Potter.
I divorced in 2004, and was impertinent when, two years later, I was not married, nor even dating. God was not sending me a spouse in a timeframe I thought appropriate. So I took matters into my own hands, and registered on Match.com. Don't ever, ever do that. It is exhausting. I cannot tell you how awful, or weird, people are. The commercials are not true.
Did I not trust that God would provide a mate for me, if that was his plan at all? Michael and I are married, aren't we?
Married to the most wonderful man: This is our wedding picture, right. Yes, I know. The dress matches the azaleas.
As you can probably guess, there are countless examples of times in my life in which I have paved my own path, not trusting that God was doing it for me. As a result, I paved a lot of useless roads that went nowhere. I also learned that even though I paid no attention to God, he was paying attention to me. So where is God in our crisis with water? Michael says the question is not Where is God in all this?, but rather, Where are you? That's why Michael is the one becoming a priest. Can you imagine living with this? So I've thought about it. Here's where are are this weekend, wet on the outside, and dry on the inside: Saturday, before family shower hour at the gym, the three of us played basketball for an hour, then hit tennis balls for 30 minutes. Isabel, who has bouts of don't-tell-me-what-to-do-because-I'm-16-and-I-know-everything, took much instruction on basketball, her current sport, and tennis, her next event. And we laughed together. A lot. We're having a family discussion on resources. We've had this discussion before, when I ran the tank dry running the sprinkler. Maybe this is a reminder to revisit it. We're using the rain and snow run-off from the road to flush our toilets (if it's yellow let it mellow...), and washing dishes with only a few cups of water. Barely worn shirts are being hung back up, and pants carefully refolded.
I am thankful for what we do have - power. Many friends in Greenville lost power this weekend, but our fluffy snow sans ice didn't weigh our powerlines or our tree branches down, and they stood up to the wind as well. So I still made bread, chili and pumpkin muffins, and the pork roast is in the crock pot for tonight. Isabel has kept us supplied with brownies and chocolate chip cookies.
Neither rain, nor snow, nor lack of water will prevent Isabel from making cookies. See the jug of water on the corner?
And, we're planning more family shower hours at the gym this week. Because we're on God's time, not mine.
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