The beginning of my book, “The Refuge” starts with a fictional story about a young couple’s struggles for the necessities of life when things begin to fall apart in our world as we know it.  It was a very real possibility over14 years ago when I wrote “The Refuge” and today it’s more than a possibility, it’s more like a harbinger, a warning of things to come.  As you read this story, I hope you can see the wisdom in preparing for such a scenario as well as being a part of a Christian community.  This is a 12-part series.  Jim

“How long do you think the power will be out this time?” Christine asked pensively. “I’m afraid our food in the refrigerator is going to spoil.”

“Hard to tell,” Stan answered as he lit a candle. “The power has been out since early this morning, so please don’t open the freezer any more than necessary. The ice cream is melting, but the meat should be okay for a while if we don’t let any more cold air escape. Maybe we ought to go to the grocery store and buy some beans and other nonperishable food. We might be in for a long haul.”

Stan stared out the window of the apartment he and Christine had been renting for the past six months. The couple had lived with Christine’s parents for the first three years of their marriage; Stan and Christine were ecstatic when they could finally afford their own place.

It was with a tremendous sense of achievement that they cut the invisible family ties that had connected them to Christine’s parents.  They had packed all their worldly possessions in the back of a U-Haul trailer and moved to a medium-priced apartment south of Los Angeles.

They were not far from La Jolla, about an hour away from Christine’s and Stan’s families—far enough to have some privacy, but close enough that if they ever needed anything, some family member could come to their rescue.

“Free at last, free at last! Thank God we are free at last!” Stan had quipped playfully in his best Martin Luther King Jr. imitation, as they unloaded the last box containing their belongings.

“Yes, isn’t it grand to finally be on our own?”

Now, six months later, in the aftermath of a stock market crash and shortages of almost everything, Stan wasn’t so convinced that they had made the right move. We’re on our own, that’s for sure, he thought.

The normally well-lighted apartment complex looked almost sinister in the eerie darkness. The wind whipped up, swaying the trees, rustling the leaves, and making the ordinary pastoral scene of the apartment complex’s common areas appear somehow threatening. Adding to the surreal effect, here and there, Stan could see the flickering flames of candlelight dancing on the window shades of some of their fellow apartment dwellers. Many windows, however, were pitch black.

As Stan stared into the darkness, he heard a noise in the bedroom. Natalie, the couples eighteen-month-old toddler, had roused from her sleep. “Maybe I better go to the store,” Stan suggested, “and you can attend to Natalie.” It wasn’t Stan’s distain for changing dirty diapers so much as his concern for Christine’s going out into the ominous-looking night that influenced Stan’s decision.

“Okay, that will be fine,” said Christine, already on her way to Natalie’s room. “Try to get some bread and milk if you can. When I was at the store yesterday, the shelves were nearly bare.  There wasn’t a loaf of bread in the entire store. And I haven’t been able to get milk for several days now. It’s unbelievable the way people are reacting to this thing. I think people are stocking up as if it’s a winter ice storm in Georgia.”

“Well, you can’t blame them. Nobody wants to take any chances. Every time there is the least bit of bad weather or the slightest natural calamity everyone converges on the banks and the grocery stores. I don’t know when we will learn that the panic is worse than the actual problem.”

Stan pulled on a light jacket. The temperature had plummeted since the sun had gone down. It was unusually cold out that night, and with winter coming on, he’d soon need a heavy coat rather than the jacket. Worse yet, because the electricity was off in the apartment complex, not only was there no lights, but there was no heat, either. “You may want to put a sweater on Natalie. It’s getting chilly in here. I’ll be back as soon as I can, honey,” Stan called to his wife.

“I’m going to stop and put some gas in the car on the way to the store. No telling how long the lines will be wt the pumps. But I’ll try to hurry. If you need anything, just give me a call on the cellular phone. I love you, Christine. I love you, Natalie!”

“We love you, Stan.” Christine called from Natalie’s bedroom. “Please hurry if you can.

Stan closed and locked the door behind him as he headed for the car. He put the key in the ignition, and the 1985 Chevy groaned until the engine reluctantly turned over. Stan cursed the blinking LED clock on the dash. No matter how often he reset the clock, it skipped back to 12:00 and continued blinking. For a while, the clock had bugged Stan so much that he had put a piece of duct tape over it, just so that he would not have to be greeted by the irrepressible flashing green numbers every time he got in the car. But Christine said the tape looked stupid and, besides, they weren’t the only ones with blinking lights in their cars these days. At least their car started.