Clouds at the horizon prevent a dramatic sunrise, but the dome of sky is mostly clear promising a sunny day. It is the first thing I look for each morning as I wake, the winter having starved me of light. But I am thinking of those 30 families who lost their homes in Roundup too. Lucky/unlucky…there are really no words…no concepts to fit disasters. Everyone has his/her own circumstances, yet I cannot say there is some divine universal plan. The fact of 30 homes under water, 30 families loosing their savored possesions, their comfort, is exactly why I do not believe in grand plans from the universe. Things happen: rain falls, ground saturates, water rises, rivers swell, basements fill, roads are covered, then the river seeps under the door sill. If you haven’t left already, you move upstairs as water rises on the chair legs and stains the wallpaper. And when it begins to fill the teacups on the top shelf, you think about climbing to the roof…hoping for a clear sky and sun in a way I never have…with the fervent prayers of need. Hope turned to supplications…desperation. Am I resisting the existence of a spirit world? a great something? No… but I think we’ve been left in charge with all the tools in the shed.
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