OUR LIVES ARE CONTROLLED BY THE WEATHER.

The temps were hovering at the hundred mark last Friday. I was hoping for a storm to break the heat. You know, one of those summer thunder boomers with heavy rains that often lower the temperatures and leave the air smelling fresh. What we got, though, was something quite different--and with far-reaching, long-lasting effects.

We got what meteorologists call "a land hurricane." Simply put, we got one heck of a wind storm. Below is a photo taken by a Lynchburg resident of the sky as the storm rolled in.

Our power went out around nine that night. I lit candles and our antique kerosene lamp while Calvin and I waited for the power to return. Little did we know we'd have a five-day wait--five hot, miserable days.

Strong winds knocked down power lines, traffic lights and took out trees. Our city suffered a lot of damage. According to our local newspaper, over 1050 felled trees had to be cleared away. Is it any wonder, one week later, many residents of Lynchburg are still without power?

Roads were blocked by uprooted trees. Debris littered roads. Traffic lights were out of commission. Both of our hospitals were running on generators. Of the six McDonalds in the hill city, only one was open. One of the three multi-plex theaters had power. What few restaurants with electricity were running out of certain foods and gas stations were low on gas.

Calvin called around to every motel to find us an air-conditioned room. What hotels had power were booked up with other sweltering souls in search of cool surroundings. We smothered at night and left the house during the day, looking for anyplace that had both air conditioning and Wi-Fi.

And STILL the temperatures soared, topping out at 106. Power crews from the electric company worked sixteen-hour days. Help arrived from power companies in other states, like Florida and Georgia. Bless their souls. When the power clicked back on here in our house, Calvin and I gasped in delight and smiled at each other. For us, the agony was over, but for others it still continues. Crews are still working to get everyone restored.

The whole awful experience was a teachable moment. We're very grateful for what we'd taken for granted. Now when our fingers turn on a light switch, we're thankful for lights. There's profound gratitude for a cool bedroom at night and hot water in the showers.

Many businesses allowed customers to charge their cell phones and laptops and iPads. Bob Evans was very gracious to us, sitting us near outlets so we could power-up while we ate.

This calamity also brought out the worst in some people. Crime is up. Generators have been stolen. And one night, near eleven o'clock, someone banged on our front door. Calvin grabbed the flashlight on his nightstand and headed for the front door. Soon someone banged on our back door. Once Calvin flashed the beam of the light, whoever it was ran off. Evidently they were checking to see if anyone was home before breaking in to loot the place.

To those utility workers who've put in such long hours, wearing rubber suits in hundred+ degree heat, I thank you. You've shown the best in human kindness.

A LESSON IN PERSERVERANCE

The Help was turned down by 60 agents before one took pity on Kathryn Stockett, a very determined author with a powerful passion for her story. Bless Kathryn's stubborn heart; she never gave up.

This is a timely reminder for me as I wait for word on two projects--a short story, Waiting on a Dream, written specifically for a submisisons call, and a novel, Mona Lisa's Room, a romantic suspense set in France.

These two elements--rejections and waiting--are part and parcel of a writer's life.

A writer friend of mine recieved word from a large publisher on June 2nd that they loved her book and were moving forward with it to the next committee. She hasn't heard a word since. Nor has her agent after repeated attemps to find out. So, this delightful lady waits-- lurking in the land of publishing limbo.

Before The Help was published, work was already underway for the movie. Yes, the publishing world does move at a snail's pace.


Have you seen the movie yet? Please do. Calvin and I saw it the day it opened here in Lynchbug. For him, it was a visit back to his childhood. For me, it was an education. By the applause that erupted at movie's end, for others in the theater, it was a delight.

Over the years, Calvin and I have shared memories of our childhood. He grew up in the segregated south and I was raised on a farm in Pennsylvania. Early in the mornings, he'd see black men and women, dressed in various uniforms, walking down the streets headed for the bus stop. My early morning activities were herding the cows into the barn for milking and filling their feed troughs with grain. Our formative lives were vastly different.

Yet, one ominous, dark thread of a nasty element in society was woven through both of our lives.

As a black boy he could not lay money into the hand of a white cashier. That white person would not welcome nor accept the touch of black skin against his or hers. As a black teen, working in a white owned store, he could not drink from the employees' water fountain nor use the employees' restroom. This resulted in many a mad dash for home over his lunch break or at day's end.

For me, it was the confusion of being jerked across the street by my good Christian mother before she'd lower herself to walk past a black man. Or watching her participate in fund drives to help "poor little African children" when she wouldn't tip the black woman who cleaned the public restrooms along Main Street in our town. I grappled with the inconsistencies.

I grappled with the same inconsistencies in the movie. White women turned their babies over to black help to raise and bathe and kiss, but refused to allow these same black women to use their bathrooms. Heaven forbid they should have to place their lily-white bottoms on the same toilet seat once used by a black person. It was almost as if they valued their bottoms more than their babies. But such were the morals, the thinking of the time.

Calvin claims whites were as trapped by segregation and Jim Crow as blacks. It made for discord and prejudices all the way around. I hope we've moved beyond all that. I hope so. I truly do...