We're Floating Away

Floating Away

We're getting drowned here in the Southland. While the rain falls in buckets, the news is constantly awash in story after story of floods, mudslides, broken dams, and daring rescues. Yesterday, Caris and I sat transfixed, staring at the tv as we watched the rescue of a mother and her 8-week old baby from a raging, overflowing river. I found myself crying as I watched. And then again, at the mudslide in La Conchita as it happened. A father now frantically digs with bare hands at the wreckage to find his family. People's homes are falling into swollen rivers as they helplessly watch.

I know that in the grand scheme of things, this is such a small event compared to what's happened on the other side of the world. But it still hurts me to watch it. And it seems to hurt so much more because it's happening right here. The rain that we often pray for because it tends to get dry around here, comes now and threatens to wash us away. I fight off my tendancy to fall into a funk with all the recent bad news. I'm usually unlikely to leave the house on days like this, and for the past few days, I've remained warm inside, watching the rain fall. In between trips back and forth to the school to pick up kids. I put a log on the fire, wrap up in a warm, Mexican blanket with the dog curled up next to me and continue to watch as the raingutters spill over into the street. I'm grateful to be here and know that I have no reason to be in any kind of funk.

This warmth is a far cry from being out in the cold rain with no place to go.