This Is My Father's World

If you've been watching the news lately you may have seen that Vancouver got a huge dump of snow the past couple days. It has really made the city quite beautiful the way the snow just hangs on every twig and leaf of every tree. A winter wonderland if there ever was one. This morning I went for a walk in my local rainforest and it was like Narnia, all enchanted and silent. It was one of those experiences you just want to bundle up and put in your pocket but at the same time something powerful and awesome you just want to leave free to prance and blow as it wills.
The power went out at my house around 8 o'clock this morning. Odd how that happens. One moment the lights are lighting, the fridge is refrigerating, the clocks are keeping time, the TV's entertaining, the computer's computing; the next: nothing. Silence. Peace. It's like God finally hit the snooze bar.
But after a few hours you start to get a bit uneasy. You hit light switches unconsciously and are shocked when nothing happens. I'm so used to pushing power buttons and having devices respond accordingly and instantly. The temperature starts going down. Will the power ever be restored?
So KC and I spent the afternoon at a crowded Starbucks with power. But night descended and begged the question: Has the power been restored? The whole neighbourhood was dark. As we walked from the bus stop to our house it was one of the most eerie feelings. Houses and streets and no lights. In a few houses you could see candlelight or firelight. There's something very welcoming and homey about that light. But it was like the apocalypse had just come down. It was a strange world. Quiet. A wonderful and terrifying quiet. We lit our gloomy basement with tea lights and had a cigarette outside. It all caused me to reflect on whether I could live without electricity and if perhaps one day we will have to. Would I be able to survive?
The power came back on around 8 o'clock in the evening and the buzzes and the whirls resumed their monotone song as if nothing had happened. But those twelve hours of perfect, whole silence made me wonder and look forward to a new world, covered in silent white, where the only noises are the crunch of snow, the muffled voice of a friend and the warm crackle of fire.

This is my Father’s world, and to my listening ears
All nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres.
This is my Father’s world: I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
His hand the wonders wrought.

This is my Father’s world, the birds their carols raise,
The morning light, the lily white, declare their Maker’s praise.
This is my Father’s world: He shines in all that’s fair;
In the rustling grass I hear Him pass;
He speaks to me everywhere.

This is my Father’s world, should my heart be ever sad?
The lord is King—let the heavens ring. God reigns—let the earth be glad.
This is my Father’s world. Now closer to Heaven bound,
For dear to God is the earth Christ trod.
No place but is holy ground.

This is my Father’s world. I walk a desert lone.
In a bush ablaze to my wondering gaze God makes His glory known.
This is my Father’s world, a wanderer I may roam
Whate’er my lot, it matters not,
My heart is still at home.

Maltie D. Babcock, 1901