Storms

Storms have a way of interrupting life. Take last month for instance. Along with a host of other people, I'd spent the previous couple months planning for an annual benefit softball tournament. Fields reserved, umpires secured, t-shirts ordered, rosters submitted, money collected, food organized and ordered. An awful lot of preparation went in to making the 2-day tournament run smoothly. After the first day of games and the seeding determined for the championship round, the players all assembled at the designated starting time on Sunday afternoon. Players had traveled from five different states for this championship game. At the precise moment when the first game was scheduled to begin a bolt of lightening lit up the sky. Then rain began to fall. We waited for the customary 30 minutes to determine what would happen next. A half hour later the captains and umpires gathered to make the call. Two minutes into the meeting the skies opened up and poured forth so much water that the parched and dusty fields from the day before had become a swamp in a matter minutes. Championship round canceled, tournament over. Just like that.

Yet something special happened during that 10 minute rain delay meeting. The captains of the various teams, who though they worked together to raise money and honor a dear friend, in many ways still acted primarily as competitors. But during this meeting - this meeting forced upon us by this abrupt and powerful storm - brought everyone together to talk about the tournament. It forced us to take the time to discuss what was important and what wasn't. To restate and agree upon the priorities. It helped lead the group to a shared commitment to the tournament and all that it stood for. So did the storm interrupt the tournament or guarantee it's long term survival?

That same storm knocked out power in my neighborhood for almost nine hours. No electricity - no cable, no internet, no A/C. Just think of pre-historic times. What would we do now? What an inconvenience - what an annoyance. Maybe go to a movie, or to the mall.

Not intentionally - at least not on our part - my wife and I, as well as my college aged daughter and some of her friends, ended up on our front porch. Some sat swinging on the porch swing while others of us were rocking in the Amish made rockers. Those who were of age, and so inclined, sipped on one of my wife's favorite Australian wines. We told stories, got caught up, learned of my daughters summer experiences in India and her friend's time on an organic farm in Vermont. We laughed together and got connected - all without an electronic device to assist us. Not long after we convened this informal gathering two of the next door neighbor's children heard the noise and decided to investigate. Margarita and Sebastian invited themselves into the party and found some comfortable laps to sit on. It took a while before their mom showed up - but she did. Another glass of wine poured, more stories, more laughs, more connections. Then Dad came over, wondering where the family was, and what all the noise was about. Even though he had a pizza cooking on the BBQ (once the kids know it's pizza night even a power outage won't be enough to change their minds) he felt compelled to stay. Oh yea, and the guests they had coming over for dinner would just have to find their way over to our front porch themselves - which they did, along with their kids and their parents.

We had a full house - although we weren't in the house. It was a magical time. A memorable time. A peaceful, relationship-building time that would not have been any more special had we planned it. Had the electricity not gone off, though, it wouldn't have happened. We would likely have been indoors, plugged in or logged on in an attempt to connect - yet would we have really connected - like we did on the porch?

Storms are unpredictable. They can wreak havoc on those they touch. Yet they can also have the profound effect of simplifying our lives and helping us to zero in on what's most important. Though I don't for a minute want to trivialize the pain and suffering brought on by storms like Katrina, one of the immediate outcomes is ofter a huge outpouring of mutual concern and real connections made between people who had previously shared the same space, but not really known each other. Life can sometimes bring simplicity to us, and in those times we remember that what matters most is people. What if we chose simplicity and began to reap the relational rewards right now. Don't wait for the storms. Try out your front porch swing today - and invite a neighbor to join you.