Powerless

Something has felt wrong today. Throughout the power outage of the previous three days, I felt a bit down.

And I felt ashamed for feeling down. After all, my family was safe. My home was intact. I still had water, gas power, battery power. The electric power outage was a mere three-day inconvenience. And many wonderful events and lessons ensued as a result of our power loss: our coming together as a family to play, work, and hang out; active playing by my children with their friends; the understanding of an important distinction between fundamental needs and desires; learning to reuse and recycle when provisions were low.

Truly, I did not greatly miss any one particular electric-powered item.

And I knew our loss was temporary.

So why did I feel down?
With the loss of power, I felt powerless.

Choices I am accustomed to had been pared back or eliminated. Not that the options I was left with were unsavory; it's just that they were no longer true options. The absence of choice left me feeling like something was missing.

Communication with the world outside my neighborhood was virtually nil. In this world of electronic communication and instant information, I've become used to being part of a larger world. With limited electronic communication, my world rapidly shrank.

My routines were interrupted. Sure, we started to develop new ones in our three days without power. Some of the new routines were actually more satisfying than our typical ones. However, again, the change in routine was brought about by no choice of my own, but by necessity.

In a way, it was a blessing to feel a bit down. That feeling prompted me to reflect on its source. I don't feel ashamed any longer. And I believe that many, if not most, of us in Cincinnati and in other towns affected by Hurricane Ike experienced new emotions as a result of this event. We are all humans, and I believe that it would be fairly improbable for a drastic lifestyle change not to affect us.

But my minor feeling of the blues (and yes, it was minor) allowed me to understand on a small scale what the true victims of Hurricane Ike -- the ones who lost their homes, the ones who lost friends and family members, the ones who will be without power and running water for a month or more -- must be experiencing. I can see how depression may very well be forthcoming and profound for many of them. I feel for them and would like to help them in whatever way I can.

And every time I flip a switch to turn on a light, I feel thankful. As I cook for my family, pulling something out of the fridge and popping it in the microwave, I feel blessed to have choices. As I dry my hair after a shower, I feel fortunate that I can once again experience such a luxury.

I am truly blessed. And I feel grateful for the opportunity to be inconvenienced enough to appreciate that I have more than what I need.