Down Home: In the heat, without power

Somewhere down the street, a squirrel got fried. That’s our theory, at least. Fuzzy rodents and electrical transformers don’t mix.

Joanna called me on my cell phone as I drove home from work a little after 6 p.m. “The power just went out,” my wife reported.

My mind raced to the really important priority. “What do you want to do about dinner?” I asked as I considered the second priority and tapped the weather app on my phone.

“Well, we’ll have to go out,” Jo replied, just as the app informed me the air around our home was 102 degrees. Welcome to August in Texas, where we do our best to imitate living conditions in the bowels of hell.

Waiting for power

Jo told me she already called the company we pay to provide us with electricity. Somebody there told her to call the company they pay to provide electricity to our neighborhood. (This raises a question: How does that work? I mean, how can Company A sell us electricity at a lower rate than Company B, when Company A actually buys electricity from Company B? Maybe I don’t want to know.) A call handler at Company B said they’d send a crew to our neighborhood.

When I got home, the house felt pretty comfortable. But what should I expect? The power had been off only 20 minutes. I imagined a movie about this evening, in which the number on our thermometer crept steadily higher while we walked around in sweat-soaked clothes, melted stuff oozed out of the freezer and Topanga, our dog, molted.

Jo talked on the phone with Danna, our next-door neighbor. She nodded in a way that told me their power was out, too. And while I took no pleasure in their torrid torment, I did feel comforted knowing we were not scorched alone. This meant (a) the problem wasn’t in our house and, more importantly, (b) the power company would take a multihouse electrical failure seriously. That thought alone made me feel a half-degree cooler.

As soon as I changed into shorts and flip-flops, we decided to head out for burgers. “Bring whatever you want to take to the library,” Jo advised.

Refuge at the library

So, we ate dinner and then headed over to hang out at the public library. Seldom have my tax dollars been so well-spent as to provide refuge from the heat on a summer evening.

But here’s an irony I didn’t notice at the time: We just about froze in the burger joint and library. Welcome to August in Texas, where businesses compensate for the hellacious heat by cranking their AC so low it approximates living conditions on a glacier in Greenland. Just think, if we could average our torrid external temperatures with the frosty fixations of restaurants, we’d feel like we lived in Hawaii’s tropical paradise.

When we got home, lights twinkled across the street, while five houses on our side hunkered in darkness. A work crew stood outside their truck, and we walked over to visit with them. Turns out, they were called out to clean up behind the electricians, who had not arrived yet.

I can’t tell you how hot our house was because, well, you know. The power was out, which meant the thermometer was kaput, too. Let’s just say our home felt muggy.

We pulled out the flashlights and killed a couple of hours, hoping the power would come back on before time to get ready for bed. In case you haven’t noticed, we live in an electricity-infused world. It’s pretty hard to do much of anything when the power’s out.

Blown spiritual transformers

That reminded me of the times when I’ve blown the spiritual transformers in my life. Like our little electrical outage the other night, I never expect or intend for the spiritual power to go out. It usually happens when I think I’m too busy to stay connected to the Source. I fail to spend time reading the Bible and rush through my prayers, talking without listening.

Pretty soon, my life is as powerless and ineffectual as our dark, sweltering house. Fortunately, my spiritual thermometer flashes a warning. If I’m listless and forlorn, I know I need to spend time with the Lord. God’s transforming power always is available.

And it’s even more refreshing than the air conditioner’s cool breeze, which blew through our home after the electricians finished their work on that hot, dark night.