This morning I went to sit at the zendo under very gray skies. By the time I came home it was raining hard, and Lori and I went food shopping. We returned to a house with no power: no lights, functioning kitchen, or water. I call my neighbor Mohammad to confirm that it’s just our house, not the neighborhood, put on boots and open an umbrella—by now it’s a squall out there—and go out to the back yard. Yes, electrical wire is still up. Go up the driveway to the road and find no fallen wires. Check the fuse box, all seems to be ok.

Eversource, in the person of Matt, comes out right away and gets it fixed in 10 minutes. “What happened?” I ask him.

Matt has been on shift since 5 am. “A small branch fell on the transformer right above your house. Didn’t you hear it? It’s a big sound, like a shotgun blast, can’t miss it.”

We missed it, but not the dogs, which explains why both looked so spooked when we came home, Aussie hiding out in my bedroom. Power is restored, dogs fed, I can flush the toilet and drink water from the faucet. I’m thinking about the bird nests containing eggs and chicks in the wind and rain. Still, all’s right with the world.

Of course, not all’s right with the world. But for the moment I have a deep appreciation for the infinite functioning minutiae of my life. Two spooked but healthy dogs, food at home, a housemate on her way towards her last surgery (we hope), a 2015 car that runs, a functioning well pump, my health and energy while not touching food for 23 hours a day. Tomorrow I will pay someone from the immigrant community to help me move around a couple of heavy items in the house and re-roof the shed in back so that it stops leaking.

So much much much much. On a rainy day, I wonder at how my life became such a banquet.

I feel immense gratitude for all the donations that have come in to send immigrant children to day camp for 6 weeks this summer. We have enough to cover the 8 children Jimena first mentioned, and I think and hope that on Monday more checks will come in because any day she will call: “Eve, can we add two more children? Maybe 4 more?” She comes down the driveway unexpectedly to give me a thank-you card, and I remind her it’s human beings out there, flesh-and-blood vessels of caring and sympathy—you—that deserve not one, but many thank-you cards.

It’s a boost for people who are scared right now. I’m all for controlling our borders—any sovereign country has the right to do that—but not at the cost of separating children from parents or sending masked men in fatigues to terrorize entire neighborhoods, not to mention the tear-gas and flash-bang grenades they’re hurling at protesters in the City of Angels.

Finally, a very nice woman commented on my last blog, about how Aussie is closing off room after room to Henry by declaring each an official combat zone, which is what the Israeli army is doing towards Gazans. She said this was too horrendous to make light of. My sister didn’t much care for the post, either.

A few years ago, I made a new vow: I vow to express de-light in all my endeavors. There was a second part, too, relating to how to assist others do this, too, but in this day and age I often find just the first part challenging enough, and I need help. That’s Aussie’s job, see? She understands that when I get down, her job is to find de-light and point it out to her more serious human. It’s how she earns her keep, that and guarding the house against raids by lions and tigers every night (she wakes up the neighborhood).

She says that if you don’t like her humor (not that I blame you), take it up with her. Or else take it up with Bernie, who told me many, many times that there’s humor in everything, no exception. He didn’t mean that there’s funny in people getting killed or starving, only that if you suspend seriousness and earnestness for a moment and look with a wider telescope, or perhaps with a much tinier microscope, you’ll find the energy of life, and that alone may bring a smile to your lips.