TAKING IT FOR GRANTED

Whoa Nellie! What was THAT?
I floated there on my bed, thinking I must be emerging from a dream wherein I was reposing on an inner tube out on Lake Huron. It didn't take long for me to realize it wasn't a dream. I reached for Dave beside me, but he was gone. Our bed continued to shift, the fan above it swayed, and there was an eerie rumbling outside. We are used to some mighty east winds here along the Wasatch Front, but they don’t rattle the bones of the house quite like this. 

Turns out it was an earthquake. 

5.7 Earthquake March 18, 2020

Dave was in the study, working on a court order. My sisters, three of whom live within sneezing distance of us, all texted. All four of my sisters have lived in California, and they knew exactly what was happening while it happened. But, Holy Toledo, this is new to me.

Dave, as presiding judge of the Second District Court, drove to the courthouse. They were already limited by the Covid 19 pandemic, so by 3 pm he was back home, having been ordered to shut down the courthouse when the aftershocks kept coming. 

That map of the earthquake looks eerily similar
to the halo on a coronavirus.

We spent the evening at home, following the parameters set out in response to the Covid 19 pandemic, dragging out the 72-hour kits our church leaders have told us for years we should have prepared for emergencies. Mine still has diapers in it, and medicine that expired in 1987. My propensity for complacency is stunning!

My sister, Libby, is all set with her refurbished 72 hour kit!

But as much as I want to actively do something, all I really feel like doing is...nothing. I want to perpetually sleep, and when I wake, I veg out in front of the TV trying to process everything. That's how my day unfolded, between the aftershocks.

After four straight hours of news coverage, and two serious rockin' and rollin' aftershocks, it suddenly hit me: TURN IT OFF!

And then the quiet rolled in. 

I sit in my comfy leather recliner, my computer in my lap. The earth has quieted. The only sounds I hear are my fingertips clicking away at my keyboard, the steady swing of the pendulum of our grandfather clock, the humming of warm air rising through the heating vents, and a solitary dove calling from the chimney cap atop our fireplace. 

In the stillness, I remember the words of our prophet, reminding us to be still so we can hear Him. The omnipotent HIM. 

In the process I whisper to myself, "do not take so much for granted." 

A peaceful night's sleep in a still, soft bed. 
An easy and comfortable way to get to people we love, often in a matter of minutes. 
I’ve taken for granted the ability to hear the voices of my kids and grandkids through the airwaves. I can check in with them, immediately after an earthquake. In all the eons of time, how often has a mother been able to do that so instantly? 
I turn on the faucet and water still flows. I’m conscious of the fact that our water and gas lines are not broken. 
When the sun sinks below the horizon I touch a small piece of plastic and light appears in my house. 

I take all this for granted.

In this continued stillness I ponder the use of that term, "taken for granted”. We take for granted that certain things will happen; that our cars will work and the roads will be passable, that our utilities will function, and our houses will faithfully shelter us. We assume if we get sick, that doctors can heal us. We presume that bad guys will go to jail and law and order will prevail. I expect the bricks that are laid one on top of the other outside my house will remain intact.

 I take it for granted.

And just when I am about to shame myself for taking these counted and countless blessings for granted, I am reminded that they are, quite literally, granted: Bestowed by the Giver of all good things.

In the process of pondering, I imagine my big old soul just about to leave my heaven home 62 years ago, worried about fitting into such a teeny wrinkled body. I’m worried about leaving the people I know so well, up there in that Heaven place. Just before the jump my big Brother hands me a deed…to my new home: a body, a family, a planet with air to breathe and water to drink and food to sustain. It’s all simply granted to me. Just before I leave, I take it, blowing a kiss back to him as I slip through the veil. Each successive day, since that one when I emerged from my mother's womb, the granting has continued. And, gratefully, I take it.

I take it for granted.

So far today we here in Farmington Utah have survived a worldwide pandemic. We have endured a 5.7 magnitude earthquake and 4.6 aftershocks. We are enduring not going to movies and restaurants and stores and each other's houses. Our kids are trying to stay calm and attentive while  parents are learning to home school them while at the same time trying to work from home and remain sane. We pant our way through this crisis. And still, we eat, we breathe, we are clothed, we communicate, and we are fairly easily entertained right in our own homes. Each of these is no small thing. 
I know from where and from Whom all good things are given. I remind myself to make an effort to be more aware, and therefore more grateful. But I also acknowledge that, with complete and reverential respect, I take these things for granted. I did not earn them. They are granted, freely and lovingly.

My thanks to the beloved Granter of all good things.