The Air We Breathe

So the air-conditioning unit died on Tuesday. We knew that death was inevitable, as it tends to be for all of us. And we were spared the slow, lingering passage fraught with questions and true hope and false hope: the thing simply stopped producing cool air on a Tuesday, and when I arrived home that evening from a gathering and was chatting with a neighbor, we were greeted by my husband opening the windows in the front room.

Of course we have become those people, the ones whose HVAC unit dies right around Memorial Day and the first or second heat wave of late spring. To be fair, the home's previous owners had a large dog who enjoyed the back yard a lot, which meant that the dog might have relieved itself on the HVAC unit a time or two; and when we bought the house, the appraiser and buyer's agent both told us that the unit was x number of years old. And we knew all that. And the repairman is supposed to be coming by in a couple of days. 

The air conditioning going out during a heat wave has prompted as many counting of blessings as it has the moaning and groaning. First, the latter: it's stuffy in the house. The dogs and cat are miserable. (We've been putting ice cubes in their water bowls and monitoring their hydration.) It's so much harder to fall asleep. Some of us, uh, glow more freely. 

The blessings: We have a new, first-hand appreciation for why the pace of life was markedly slower in the South before air conditioning became common: in homes, in cars, in offices, in houses of worship. It's too hot to cook and, If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen have become much more vivid realizations. (M. did not make a stir-fry as planned on Saturday.)

"Our air conditioning is out" might possibly excuse my frizzy hair, at least part way. I do try to tame it before I leave the house, but this temporary reality is a handy backup. (Hey! What if we just ... nah.)

We have a new appreciation for the backyard porch. After about 8 o'clock in the evening, if the heat eases a little, it's cooler and not nearly as stuffy, and a good place to watch the sun subside and lightning bugs come out. 

Our household contains three small portable fans and a ceiling fan. We are absolutely using them. And the pets have learned where the nexus of air is and where they can sprawl on the floor.

And the big, first-world one: Paying the repairman his estimate will put a dent in our budget, for sure. But we can pay it, even though it means a more watchful eye on the checkbook for a spell. For some of my neighbors, if the HVAC unit died, they would simply be living without central air conditioning, and then central heating, for quite some time because that money was simply not to be found, and the budget was much too lean to allow for quick payment. With patience, maybe a few dollars at a time, they would get there. And some of my neighbors simply don't run the air conditioning or the heat much at all, to keep the power bill down and the lights on. 

That porch I mentioned: it looks out on a fenced back yard full of older trees, and ivy that we keep an eye on, and shade, and birdsong, and a chipmunk family, and our immediate neighbors have similar lots and yards. We live in a little area of single-family postwar houses, surrounded by larger, wealthier sections, and our home is our oasis. We do not live in an apartment surrounded by asphalt that shimmers and half-melts in summer. 

Inside the house, the air is a little stuffy, and we perspire more, and our fans stir the air, and in the cool of the morning and the cool of the evening we can enjoy the back yard. 

And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden. But the Lord God called to the man and said to him, "Where are you?" (Genesis 3:8-10, RSV.)

God continues to grant to those in my household the cool of the day, every day so far, and reminds my heart that even when we hide from God's presence, God knows where we are and what we are up to. And God continues to invite us to number our blessings and find them too many to count.