School was delayed for a week because of the flooding; when it opened, we were still without power, and turned a corner of Alicia’s classroom into our beauty salon. We lugged an ironing board and iron, as well as a makeup mirror, blow dryers, and hot rollers into the room, gathering to primp before the students arrived. Without air conditioning, it was hot at home; our cold showers were welcome. Sleep truly was harder, because of the heat. One morning after the storm I woke, still on the sofa, about 2 a.m. When I realized I wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep, I got dressed and drove down to Lake Park, a few miles away, and picked up a dozen doughnuts for our breakfast. I wasn’t yet thirty; I was fearless about driving alone at night. We did get more sleep that week, simply because there was little to do without electricity. After supper we played board games or charades—based on Bible stories, of course—by candlelight. Jennie was convinced that Alicia and I were cheating, because we’d lived together long enough to guess each other’s charades quickly. Alicia would walk into the candlelit room and pantomime opening a window, and I knew immediately that it was Daniel in Babylon, opening his window toward Jerusalem to pray. The first football game of the season occurred on Friday night; we were still without power. It was doubly frustrating because the people across the street had power; the lines ran behind the houses, so they were connected and we were not. We joked that it was like living during the plagues of Egypt. When darkness fell on Egypt, the children of Israel still had light. How had we—good Christian women trying to serve God—become the Egyptians? When we drove home that night from the football game, we saw the huge Florida Power & Light truck parked just down the street. I got out of the car and ran down the sidewalk, yelling “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” We were among the last homes to have power restored, after a week of living, as we said, like hardy pioneers. The waters receded, but much had changed. Nothing is sadder than palm trees without fronds and stores and homes with boarded-up windows. We were fortunate; we had no broken windows, no fallen trees. We returned to our classrooms and daily routines.
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Baptist GirlI was a conservative Baptist girl who grew up to become a career Christian, working first in a Baptist school and then in a Baptist college. For about three decades, it was very good until it wasn’t, and I had to leave. But the Baptists formed me. This is my homage to the good times and good people of the world I left, finally, at forty-three, when I became an Episcopalian. These are my memories; others might disagree with my recollections. So be it. Archives
January 2024
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