Power Out

I am a lover of simplicity. I would rather walk than drive, sweep than vacuum, and as for washing dishes...I never even used a dishwasher 'til I was in my teens. I trust that God knew what He was doing when He placed me in the here and now, but my lifestyle does not always match my inclinations. Modernity bustles along at such breakneck speed, offers such a bewildering amount of stimulation, that I am sometimes driven to the brink of distraction. I long for the quiet solidity of simple work and the peace of separation from a clamorous world. So once in awhile, it is good to do without some things: 
overhead lighting
limitless running water
I do not strictly need these conveniences. I certainly don't deserve them. 
It's good to be reminded of that.
It's good to lay aside privilege and entitlement and simply enjoy life as it comes.
To slow down.
And enjoy the fact that the power is out.
My image
I realize that most people have a much harder time coping with power outtages than I do. My family is fairly well equipped, so I may meet the darkness with confident glee. While others grumble and groan, I am free to revel. And revel, I do.

I like the warm yellow of lantern light; the way it sends vague shadows flickering across the walls. I admire the sheen of the flame's reflection in the polished wood of the tabletop. I love the way everyone moves a little closer together, sharing a single circle of illumination. I relish the silence of a place where all the electric gadgets have been suddenly cut off. Most of all, I love the fact that my to-do list loses its urgency. I don't accomplish everything...and I don't even feel guilty about it.

I don't like being in control, and I'm thankful for reminders that I'm not.

My problems, my projects, my jobs are not important. It's wonderful to let go, step back and look at things from a different perspective.

When the power dies, I instantly feel more restful.

I enjoy my lighting and my internet. Bountiful water supplies are convenient. Landline phones come in handy. But it's nice, sometimes, to do without.

It's peaceful.

And good.