Resting in Loss

I need to wash clothes! I need to use water! Our city is on a mandatory water conservation order by the mayor. Every person must cut back at least 50% until our water treatment plants are dry again and back up and running after the city was flooded last weekend. Nevertheless, people are helping people, and the unity Nashvillians are displaying is touching. The damage is heartbreaking, though. Possessions-turned-soaked-trash are dotting the streets as people are cleaning up and out. Blake is helping someone right now install new flooring in a basement studio. Our girls' pediatrician has no running water, electricity nor phone for at least the rest of the month. The physician's assistant in the same office lost everything; the water is as high as her home's chimney. Truly. And sadly, the insurance battles have also begun. But, in a moment of lost perspective, I complained about not having washed my hair in more days than I'll admit. Blake said it could be worse. Truly. An admirable statement from my noble husband, who suffered a job loss five days ago. Yes, you read that correctly.

Can I tell you what I think about all this loss? I'm gonna risk you calling me crazy and tell you that I think loss is also gain. It takes losing things--whether it be actual things or the income to get actual things--to have your mind awakened to the truth about what you have and need. When we don't or won't see what we have, all that's left to see is what we don't have. It's a virulent pattern of thinking to only see what we don't have, because it never ends. We can just hoard a new thing with the other things spilling out of our hands and forget how glad we are to have it when we see the next thing we want. Wanting is tiring.

Sheryl Crow said it best in her song Soak up the Sun: "It's not having what you want. It's wanting what you've got." I think that state of thankfulness is restful.

This week, we've had some inconvenience when others have had loss. We've also had some loss when others have had all lost. I'm not thinking about all the things I can't have, or about my secret list of things I think will make me happy if I EVER get them. I'm just resting because I'm not plotting my path of gain. We're conserving water, yes, but also conserving want. This means we are a little dirtier than normal, but maybe we are a little more satisfied than normal, too.

You might think me a simpleton, but this week I'm thankful for shade from a patio umbrella so I can enjoy a noon meal outdoors with my fair-skinned family. I'm thankful for a dry, comfortable home with many toys for my children and I to trip over.  I'm also thankful for a God who tells us more times than anything else, "do not fear."

On that note, I'll leave you with one last thought. I'm gonna go pee and not flush.