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.