I had been warned. The newspapers, television commentators and no less than Martha Stewart had given of their time to help prepare me for the coming of an ice storm and the possible loss of electricity.
“Be sure you have plenty of batteries,” the concerned plea of one grim-faced reporter had stated.
“Batteries are a necessity,” another spewed forth in a condescending manner.
So, I had been warned. But, being warned and taking up the baton and running with it are two separate matters. And so it was that at 3:30 a.m., the lights went off not to return for four days, leaving me without all my creature comforts. No television. No heat. No internet. Nothing!!!!! Abandoned! Alone!
After shuffling about the house in army boots and layered clothing so thick that I felt my arms would certainly atrophy in a permanent straight-down position, I gave up on any expectation of normal living returning to me. And then, a ray of hope! I remembered that our radio would operate on batteries. Oh, joy!!! I didn't know whether I was happier to finally have the opportunity to hear from the outside world or just to have something to do.
I scrambled around looking for batteries. Two appeared from the drawer next to my bed. One was found behind the sofa. The fire alarm and a clock on the wall were robbed and left in utter desolation. But, I only had five batteries and the radio needed eight to operate.
I could see the last slender fiber of hope fleeing out the window! I fell back into my chair ready for the cold to continue its slow sapping of every ounce of strength from my body. In what was certainly a state of delirium, I asked myself rhetorical questions like “Which is the most horrible way of death, burning up or freezing?” or “Will I have to be thawed out in order to prepare my twisted body for burial?“
Just before perhaps my last sleep was to take my body, I jumped up remembering another place where batteries might be found. The basement was stacked with dozens of boxes containing the long forgotten toys given to my now grown children over so many Christmases. Surely, there would be toys still holding batteries in their snug and secure compartments. Maybe even an unopened pack of batteries could be found packed away with the toys. Hope! The bread of man's existence.
“I'm going to the basement to look for batteries,” I announced to Norma. Before she could say anything, I was down the basement stairs and tearing open boxes.
The Transformer toy that could be twisted into a thousand shapes was empty. A talking stuffed animal was lifeless. A remote-controlled car yielded nothing. Three boxes were emptied with no success.
And then, it happened. I found myself moving slower. But, it was not from the cold. A flood of memories came back as I remembered Christmases from days gone by with every toy that I handled. My soul was covered with warm memories and thoughts. Voices echoed back from years gone by.
“Daddy, look what Santa Claus brought me,” Josh's voice wafted through the stillness. I could see his eyes so wide, standing there in Mickey Mouse pajamas and extending a shiny new truck up for me to inspect.
“Push me, Daddy,” Carla's voice reverberated through the cold basement. A picture of me guiding her on her new bike, albeit with training wheels, appeared as clearly as the frost-covered windows.
“You and Mommy are silly,” the duo chimed in as my wife and I kissed under the mistletoe. Then, they were back to the toys that covered the living room floor, squealing with delight.
I don't know if I skipped over any batteries as I searched. The toys had taken on more meaning than Ray-O-Vacs. I felt warm inside. All the selfish and morbid thoughts that I had entertained since the ice storm threw us into darkness paled in comparison with the recollections from the past.
God needed to bring me back into the world of love and compassion and out of the pits of despair. He needed to grab me up, slap me in the face, and shake self-pitying thoughts out of my brain. And He did so as I sat on a basement floor, opening up and inspecting toys, and remembering.
“Find any batteries?” Norma said when I reached the top of the basement stairs. “You were gone long enough.“
“No,” I said through the tears welling up in my eyes. But, I found a whole lot more.