Some journeys are more difficult to get started than others. For months now I have been preparing for and anticipating a trip with my book club of 25 years. This group of women and I have traversed many of life’s difficult and triumphant experiences. We have birthed children and raised the majority of them now into adulthood. We have buried parents and have found ourselves in the throes of being the sandwich generation. We have seen relationships with partners begin and also end. We have read hundreds of books and eaten equally as many desserts together. We have laughed and cried and supported one another through thick and thin. In our 20th year together we celebrated in Chicago. And now in our 25th year we have been planning a four day adventure in New York City. Who knows what our 30th year will bring?!
Our flight this morning was set to leave at 6:30 a.m. With all my things laid carefully out and ready, I awoke at 4:00 a.m. to head out on this celebratory trip. I had already been awakened an hour earlier by the storm sirens’ blaring. I laid there for another hour thinking of how cavalier I have become in hearing this sound and made a mental note to stop doing this, to at least get out of bed and see what was really happening outside. Showering and dressing quietly so as not to disturb the entire household, I headed downstairs to ‘put on my face’ as my mother would say and dry my shampooed hair.
It was at that moment that all the electricity went out. Undaunted I lit one of the many candles around our house. I headed upstairs to find the industrial flashlight hidden in a closet for such a time as this. The rest of my beauty work would need to be done under the romantic lighting of candle and flashlight. My hair would just have to dry the old fashioned way.
Heading out for the airport, it became clear immediately that those sirens had been sounding for a reason. Limbs, leaves and entire trees littered our streets. Making our way down one route, we were turned around by the orange cones already set up by firefighters in reflective wear. Downed power lines crossed the path. Turning around we headed down yet another parallel street only to hear the voice of a police officer speaking through a bull horn: “Back up and turn around!” As we did our lights shone on the light post laying along the street, its wires splayed on the street’s wet pavement.
Once again we tried yet a different path. This street while strewn with debris of trees was not nearly so bad as the others we had tried. It was clear that the storm had forged a path down straight down a mile pathway that included our street and the one that ran near it. After all the detours, our ride to the airport became smooth sailing and I arrived in plenty of time to meet my friends and our flight.
This morning offered a huge reminder. Sometimes even the most well planned trip can have a surprising beginning. My prayer is that those who are left with the cleanup of the storm will be safe in their clearing. And my further prayer is that the storms of this adventure have already been endured.
However, if this is not the case I know that I am with a circle of friends who have weathered much together and we will surely weather much more as we continue to live out our lives. It is a blessing and one I pray for everyone to experience.
Blessed be.