So far it's been rain, intermittent, sometimes heavy.

The 40-something mile bicycle ride Reed and Karen Nester were scheduled to lead for the Williamsburg Area Bicyclists won't happen. I kind of thought that would be true, so I went out for about 40 miles myself yesterday. Next Saturday is the annual 100-mile "Surrey Century" ride. Hope the weater is decent for that!

Our son and daughter-in-law, Nathan and Renee, are up in the big city this weekend, visiting our daughter and son-in-law, Emily and Sheldon. The timing of the visit was determined by the fact that the Phillies are scheduled to play the Mets this afternoon at Shea Stadium. Will storm move slowly, so that the rain will hold off so the game can be played? Nathan has had tickets for weeks and weeks!

Wind is promised for later on today, and that usually means a power outage because our neighborhood is so heavily wooded. I've been sitting out on the screened porch, thinking about the days following Hurricane Isabel, which was actually a tropical storm by the time it blew through Williamsburg five years ago. Unrelated rain systems had come through, bringing heavy rains for days before Isabel arrived, and since the ground was thoroughly soaked, Isabel's wind blew down thousands of trees, many taking down power lines. We were without power for eight days at home, and for six days at the church.

We only lost two trees at home, and both of them fell away from the house, so I didn't have any crises to deal with on the home front. For me, personally, the lack of power meant that life slowed down in a wonderful way. My days were spent as if I were a pastor before electrification, and before the invention of the telephone. (We lost phone service at home, and the phone system at the church is powered by electricity.) Also: no e-mail!

I spent mornings reading, with light coming in the large windows in my church office, and enjoyed talking with anyone who happened to come in. Afternoons were spent visiting. I mostly visited those who lived in heavily wooded neighborhoods, who might have suffered house damage by falling trees. Since I didn't have a phone, I couldn't call ahead. But I could count on folks being home, because offices were without power, and agencies relying on our volunteers closed down. (Our folks are so busy -- those who work for pay as well as those who are retired -- that I'm used to having to call and compare calendars and setting up appointments to visit days in advance!) Since there was no power, evening meetings were cancelled. When it got dark, it was time for bed. In the days after Isabel, I had a taste of what it may have been like for the village parson, mythically remembered.

At one time in my life, I would have felt great frustration over the inconvenience of losing modern technology, and the canceled meetings and projects. I'm better able, now, to enjoy the disruption of the routine, and to receive the gift of each day as it comes. There is much that I prefer about the way I spent those days for that week or so following Isabel!