Writing: The Story I Never Meant to live

So here I am at a bookstore in Asheville, wondering what is happening to me and what is coming next. We've had no power or Internet or TV since Friday morning at breakfast. This last week was nearly unbelievable to me, as one thing after another tumbled out of the sky onto us.

The landscape around the house looks like a war zone. Every tree has lost it's upper half or more. The ice hangs like daggers from each remaining branch. We must be right at the spot where the storm turned from rain to frozen forms -- there was so much water in it. These hills will need years to recover.

Lately I've wondered if we are like that landscape, if the storms we go through can create so much damage that we are years in recovery. I think I already know the answer, but I don't like it. I've been feeling bleak every time I gaze out a window.

I'm convinced that part of my problem is that I was not prepared. Not for the length of the wait for our "normal life" to resume. Not for the severity of the winter. Not for the other issues bearing down on me.

When I had a baby, I was prepared for it to be hard in certain ways -- sleepless nights, my body recovering, sickness, and stress. When I decided to homeschool, I knew I was undertaking a serious challenge. I knew I'd be stretched to my limits. When we bought an old house, I knew the sorts of things it might involve. I expected the trouble that came. I took on these things with my eyes wide open.

But I was not prepared for this. Somehow, it matters.

Late last night, the generator stalled because it was low on oil. My husband had to drive on icy roads under power lines which had icy trees hanging on them. I lay down in the dark and listened to the trees breaking and falling while I waited for him to return. After what seemed like forever, he was home again. Then he had to go outside with a flashlight and fill the generator with oil. He took a long time getting back to sleep. Early this morning, I kept waking him as I made coffee and toast in the kitchen.

But he never complained.

I wasn't ready for a storm like this. I wasn't ready for a life like the one I am living. I'm finding myself in the middle of a story that I don't know how to navigate, one where I don't have any inkling of the next chapter. This sort of thing is thrilling to read -- when it's happening to someone else, and I have the distance and perspective of looking back over time.

Somehow, my husband knew how I was feeling, knew what the problem was. He knew he couldn't bring back our "normal" life. But he talked to me and charmed me into coming with him today. We drove to Asheville, 30 minutes from our house on the interstate. We had sandwiches and coffee at a little shop and then walked over to a bookstore. He packed my laptop, too, and carried it from the car into the coffee shop. And even though I didn't think any of this would help, I do feel better now.

There were no lectures or sermons about trusting God more or keeping my chin up. Just a warm smile and a cheery voice and calm, steady hands driving the car, carrying my things, and holding mine.

And it helped, better than any words could have.

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Can you remember a time when a friend helped you just by being there?