So there it was, Christmas Day. We had opened our presents the night before (a tradition in my husband's family), the turkey was in the oven, the pies were all baked, the cranberry sauce was almost done, and we were happily anticipating the arrival of a friend of ours, and my brother and his wife (whom we hadn't seen in some time). Suddenly, our house was plunged into darkness; a big storm had come up and the power was out. Now, where we live, it's out in the woods and we're used to power outages. We sprang into action like a well oiled machine; Bob lit the fire and the Coleman lanterns, I lit candles, got the rechargeable flashlight from the bathroom and made sure the oven and burners were off. The only problem was the turkey. No problem! Bob charged out on the deck with his umbrella, lit the barbecue and transferred the turkey to it. What about the gravy? Also no problem; we got the camp stove out for that. The green bean casserole could go into the barbecue after the bird came out. We couldn't bake the rolls, but my brother had made some Yorkshire puddings, and they were better than rolls or potatoes, anyway. Anything else we either cooked in the barbecue or on the camp stove, or we just didn't bother with it. A potential disaster became a lovely candlelit dinner, with family and friends laughing around the table. The whole meal (especially the turkey) was delicious, by the way. The lights came back on just after we finished dessert.
I guess the moral of the story is:
The storm may shut off the lights in your house, but nothing can shut off the light in your heart.