HONEY I BLEW UP THE HOUSE

On Sunday, we went to a family gathering at my in-law’s house and returned home to a shocking scene. The solar batteries we use to power our home had exploded, blasting out walls and doors and launching all the windows out of our basement. The firemen told us that If anyone had been downstairs, they could have been fatalities. A friend who lives over two miles away said it sounded like a sonic boom. We are so thankful we weren’t home when the blast went off. As we walked around in stunned amazement at its destructive power, my son Eli said, “Well, Dad, at least you have something for your next Leadership Lessons of the Land.”  I am still in shock and processing what happened, but two thoughts have been driven home to me. 

The first thought is how meaningless material possessions are. I love the book Essentialism. The author explains that most of us spend our lives in the undisciplined pursuit of nonessentials instead of focusing on the few things that really matter. Sometimes it takes a bomb going off to wake you up to that fact.

The second thought is an overwhelming feeling of immense gratitude. We say prayers before meals and bedtime. The prayers of our little children are very routine. They repeat the same things every time -- “we are thankful for… and please bless….” Without being prompted, they’ve added a new phase to their liturgy. “We’re thankful we were not killed by the bomb.”