Horrific war in the Middle East, Israel versus Hamas, unspeakable brutality and loss of life; the continuing struggle between Ukraine and Russia; health care concerns over RSV and new strains of Covid; economic upheaval and the rise in the prices of virtually everything; uncertainty about our political future in the U.S.A.

We are inundated with national and international concerns. And often we sit in the comfort and security of our homes watching these issues unfold before our eyes, donning warm bedroom slippers and sipping the hot drink of our choice as the videos and pictures flash before us on our laptop screen or on the enormous high definition screen in the comfy family room. We adjust the lighting in the room to suit us as we stay seated in our fluffy chairs not needing to move a single muscle. It is winter in the South, and we are experiencing the coldest temperatures of 2023, lows in the mid 20s, highs in the 40s. But we are safe, shielded from the low temps as well as the turmoil of war.

Until . . . our central heat goes out. Brrr. It was 58 degrees in the house when we woke up this past Tuesday morning. Our HVAC people came out by noon that day to investigate. They thought they had diagnosed the problem, so they ordered a part and returned two days later to install it. But that didn’t resolve the issue. A subsequent visit that same day with more parts didn’t resolve it either. The new verdict is a blower motor. And hopefully they can install that today, but . . . there is no appointment scheduled yet this morning. We shall see.

The clothes washer is starting to act up now, too, leaking water onto the floor, and it seems confused about when to move from the wash cycle . . . . What’s next?

And in an instant we are: keeping up with a fire in our fireplace, buying load after load of wood from Lowe’s, constantly repositioning the logs, using heat from the oven in the kitchen, and keeping a borrowed electric space heater going in whatever room seems logical at the time.

Our world started to get real small Tuesday morning. And since.

I do care about world concerns, and I sympathize with those grieving in faraway places. But when I can’t watch it on the news in my warm secure home I find that my concerns become much more local. Much more tiny. Much more focused on keeping us somewhat warm, wearing coats in the house, not wanting to have the front door open any longer than necessary when the dog asks to go out to pee.

It’s a small world after all.

I suspect I’m not much different than you, even though you may be appalled at my lack of sensitivity. If you were in my place . . . what would you do? What would you feel?

In the early days of our nation, long before the internet, television, cable news and Facebook people used to get their news by word-of-mouth, or by the occasional visit to town where a local newspaper might tell of world events. One might learn in a letter from a relative that Aunt Betty died several months before. Or that there was a gold rush somewhere out in California. Nothing was instantaneous.

Cooking was from scratch, water was hauled in buckets, repairs were done by the owner of the property, and animals were cared for by the owner, too. To be clear, your family’s subsistence was up to you.

I’m not advocating we return to that life; the mortality rate was horrific, and the flu could just as well take your life as not. But it’s interesting to me how small that world was for a family, or even a community.

Then we got modern. More and more. “Progress,” we called it. A few balked but most did not. Life became more than just subsistence. And that is good. But we’ve also paid a price.

Numerous books like Alvin Toffler’s Future Shock observed our advancing civilization and predicted a level of despair to follow. He was correct. We have yet to learn how to balance our psyches; there is no time, because the next advance is in front of us before we have resolved the old ones.

But then . . . your central heat goes out. Now that creates a certain level of despair, no doubt. But it also clarifies some things, narrows some concerns, focuses your energies into a single strain: how do we keep warm?

I know that eventually our present issue will be resolved. Thank goodness for innovation and science and the creation of central air and warm clothing from a department store. But for a few days . . . it is actually refreshing to experience burning a fire in the fireplace. Not to create a mood, or for the feeling of coziness as you curl up with a book. Not to add to the ambience of the room as you gaze at the large screen TV in front of you depicting the severe cold and deprivation experienced by the Donner Party in their trek out west. But . . . simply for heat. Simply to stay moderately warm in the wintertime.

Merry Christmas! We will definitely remember THIS one at our house.