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The Flood of 2008
Once in a lifetime experiences don't
come very often….in fact, they're um…once in a lifetime. Witnessing the
flooding of Pewaukee Lake is a memory that will only be shared by a
limited population, as this is the first recorded time it has overflowed
its banks to this extent. Ever.
So, for a week I've lived on
"lakefront" property, sort of – if you consider water from the lake a
half block away flowing down the street in front of my home as
"lakefront." Just as remarkable is the steady stream of sightseers who
feel no compunction about walking across my yard to get a better look,
despite the yellow police tape they've just ducked under.
Nevertheless, I am made aware of the
power of tragedy to make strangers into a community, to bind them in a
common history that is uniquely theirs. It is creating a memory that
twenty years from now I can recall with my husband, "Remember when we
lived through the flood of 2008?", and impress our grandchildren with
the story of this rare moment in history.
But, isn't every moment a rare, once
in a lifetime experience? Doesn't today quickly become yesterday, never
to come again? What did you or I do today that we won't be able to do
again? What happened today that won't happen again? Basically,
everything. Did we pay attention?
Some remark on the power of God when
such natural disasters strike. But, isn't the power of God here every
day, hovering in the air as he gives me breath? Isn't his power just as
grand when I lounged on the same sunny beach last summer that's now
under a foot of water? Unusual events make me aware of the specialness
of the "usual" events: eating breakfast with my husband, reading books
to a grandchild in my lap, walking through autumn trees.
Already the waters are receding, but
there've been benefits, too, to the flood these past couple of weeks.
The train whistle and roar of motorcycles through the intersection have
been replaced with the gentle sound of the mini-waterfall over the curb.
Neighbors have helped each other sandbag, and I've talked to countless
people as they've come to see this phenomenon just outside my balcony.
I've even met the chief of police as he strung up yellow tape to keep
motorists out of the deep water. This won't happen again – when else
would I ever witness even Buddhist monks traipsing through my shrubbery?
We are "making history" every day
that we live, that we do something that we didn't do yesterday. Every
day is a day we can call up, remember and catalog as a history of a
life, the gift of existence itself from God. Ecclesiastes 11:8 says,
"Even if you live a long time, don't take a single day for granted. Take
delight in each light-filled hour."
I intend to do just that.
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