For three days, my husband, Clif, and I have been getting ready for Hurricane Sandy.  When we lose the power on our country road, there is no telling how long it will be out, and for us, no power means no water. Yesterday, Clif and I went about our business and waited for the storm to hit us. We waited and waited.

In the meantime, I made homemade chicken soup and, for the first time, biscuit muffins, from a delectable recipe Nan posted on her blog, Letters from a Hill Farm. They are a make-again, that’s for sure. I did more laundry, and made sure the dishes were done as soon as we used them. I took the dog for a walk. I set more water aside. Clif works from home on Mondays, and he worked diligently, wondering how long he would have power.

The afternoon came, and we still had power.

“Let’s have an early supper so that we can clean up while we have power,” I said, and this we did.

We called our daughter Dee, twice, to see how she was faring in Brooklyn.

“I’m fine,” came the answer. “I still have power.” And as Dee lives on the third floor in a building that is well away from water, there was really no danger of flooding in her area.

In Portland, where our other daughter, Shannon, lives, she and her husband, Mike, lost their power some time in the early evening. But they, too, are far enough away from the ocean so that they were out of harm’s way.

Still waiting for our power to snap off, Clif and I settled in the living room to watch the storm footage on the various news channels, and what we saw filled us with dismay—homes flooded and smashed to bits; a broken crane hovering like some giant bird of death in downtown Manhattan; sand and sea foam flying like snow; actual snow blitzing West Virginia. All along the eastern seaboard, millions of people were affected by this hurricane, and I am grateful that we have a president who values FEMA and has built it up from the sorry state it was in when Katrina hit.

The evening passed—eight o’clock, nine o’clock, ten o’clock. Clif and I were still waiting for the power to go off. When eleven o’clock came, I ventured cautiously, “I don’t think we’re going to lose our power.” And we didn’t.

From one of the meteorologists, we learned that trees and branches start snapping when the wind reaches 40 miles an hour, and in central Maine, it never blew that hard. We were on the outer rim of Hurricane Sandy, which brought us wind and rain but not in damaging amounts.

The storm is passing slowly, and in the weeks ahead will begin the long reconstruction and clean-up in the devastated areas. As my cousin Lynn Plourde, a talented writer, has so beautifully put it on Facebook:

“33 dead and counting
8+ million without power
Destruction that has changed lives forever.
As one who has lost a house to a fire
and another to a flood in the past,
I understand ‘a bit.’
My heart aches.
My prayers are constant.
My one question is NOT ‘How could this happen?’
But rather . . . HOW CAN I HELP?”

She also provided this link to ABC News, which lists the various organizations providing “food, shelter, and other supplies to hurricane victims.” The organizations include the Red Cross and the Salvation Army as well as many others, and they are all accepting donations.

Thanks, Lynn! I’ll be making my donation soon.

And I am also ever so grateful that my family, my friends, and my town came out of this storm safe and in one piece.