Serving Clovis, Portales and the Surrounding Communities
Serving Clovis, Portales and the Surrounding Communities
A sinkhole. That’s what I was told our little community of Muleshoe recently acquired on the east side of our town.
Full disclosure: I have not seen this new-to-us geological feature with my own eyes. I’ve not even seen pictures yet. I’ve mostly heard second- or third-hand reports that may or may not be accurate, and, though I try not to spread lies and gossip in this column, I warn you that the words I’m stringing together here today are not in the same universe as serious journalism. I’ve done very little fact-checking (which may make this more like modern journalism than I care to think).
I do know that something unusual and disruptive has taken place. Highway 84 is a rather surprisingly busy thoroughfare, and the section here is now shut down and unavoidably annoying detours are in place.
Skilled workers who deal with this kind of thing, I’m told, are hard at it, and, as they work long hours, the problem might be fixed in a couple of weeks. And, yes, this is mostly hearsay.
What I have heard is that the problem stretches across the highway. What I have seen are highway cones and barriers blocking the road and many vehicles taking a scenic tour through neighborhoods that would rather not welcome them.
As far as I know, the first of many intergalactic landing crafts from Mars may have set down out there, and authorities thought this event worthy of highway closure and detours. But “sinkhole” is what I’ve heard, and it seems more likely.
According to the U.S. Geological Survey, a sinkhole is “a depression in the ground that has no natural surface drainage.” Water from above (rain, which is rare here) seeps down, collects under the ground, dissolves some types of rocks, and “creates underground spaces and caverns.” Land above the underground holes gives up and crashes down if those voids become too large.
According to the U.S.G.S. website, sinkholes in the U.S. “over the last fifteen years” have cost “on average at least $300 million per year” and probably more. And they report that the largest sinkhole in the nation is the “Golly Hole” in central Alabama (325 feet long, 300 feet wide, and 120 feet deep). Well, golly!
Our sinkhole can’t compete. It is large enough to be quite disruptive, but, having read that website article, I’m wondering if, geologically speaking, calling it a sinkhole might be a stretch. But it’s way too big to be a pothole, so as far as I’m concerned, a sinkhole it is.
Update: I might opt for the term “sewer sinkhole” since what I’ve now heard is that it has resulted from a major sewer line collapse. Stinky sinkhole?
In the Bible, Numbers 16, you can read about a God-created sinkhole the Almighty used to deal effectively and permanently with rebels and grumblers against his chosen leader Moses, and thus against God himself. Fire from heaven and a plague also figure in. God’s justice was swift and deserved.
It’s good that we humans can’t call up sinkholes at will. God’s justice is perfect; mine, not even close. My job is not to summon sinkholes and deal out retribution. My task is to love even my enemies and seek God’s help in learning to forgive them lest hatred and bitterness turn my soul into a sinkhole of the stinkiest sort.
God wants to build something in me that will last and not collapse. My job is to trust him and let him.
Curtis Shelburne writes about faith for The Eastern New Mexico News. Contact him at:
