Winds of Change

The Never Ending Weariness

We are safe. I feel shell-shocked from these last few weeks and then feel guilty for the state I am in, knowing I haven't experienced the worst of anything that has happened. I have been fighting off panic since Monday when I saw Rita entering the Gulf and every prediction had the Houston area in her direct path. I went into disaster response mode, preparing shelters, identifying people in my community with special needs and doing everything I could to make sure they were taken care of. Once again I am left with the realization that in a mass disaster, you better be prepared to take care of yourself. It was only Thursday evening and Friday that shelters here began to open. People with medical conditions could not find a shelter with an alternative energy supply - generators, and the hospitals were saying they couldn't take people who might need shelter, until after the electricity went out. When I informed one hospital that if the woman I was trying to place waited for the electricity to go out before seeking shelter there, she would die before she made it to the hospital, the man I was speaking to seemed to not have considered that reality. He then said to just have her show up and she would not be turned out into the storm.

As Rita reached Cat. 5 and was heading straight for Galveston, I made a very difficult decision to send my kids north to Dallas, and for me to stay behind. I needed to know they were safe, and I could not leave because of my work. My daughter wanted to go, my son did not. He didn't want to have to worry about whether I was alive or dead, he said. I made him go anyway.  It was so hard to load them up with family friends and say good-bye. Then I got a call 5 hours later. They had only made it 20 miles out of town - using back roads that we had hoped would be less filled than I-45 which was at a stand still. They were turning around and coming back. I hung up the phone and sat and cried.

I did what I could to get people taken care of. I was getting lots of phone calls from people who made it north to where I live, and had decided to find shelter as the storm neared and the roads remain blocked. I got people into homes and shelters and then had to decide what to do for my own family. By Friday morning, it appeared the storm was heading more east than predicted at first. We still decided to ride out the storm with friends a bit further north. We took back roads and had no problem getting to our friends' house. The storm passed early this morning with only a few trees down and electricity out in some areas - but nothing too devastating here.

I grew up in Lake Charles and have a sister who still lives there. She went to Baton Rouge to stay with our other sister, and they are both safe. But, my sister in L.C. has no idea if she has a home to return to. And I keep seeing the scenes from L.C. and can't believe how devastated it is.

Once again, there are so many people in need of help. And right now, I can't begin to think of how to pitch in and help. I am so tired. So exhausted. It has been three weeks of non-stop taking care of people. And I feel guilty for just wanting to stop. Just wanting to go away and forget about all the suffering, all the people who have lost everything. The people we helped in LaCombe were hit again - the tarps blew off the homes we had repaired. The last I heard from one man was that he was in a home in Mandeville and they had water coming in to the first floor - they were on the second floor and had no idea how to get out or where to go. I hope they are ok.

I keep having this urge to check the national hurricane center website to make sure there are no more forming, no more coming into the gulf. I don't know that we here in the south could handle more of this.

And then there was music

Day after day the reality of the loss and suffering has grown. I've been involved with efforts to feed the people displaced from New Orleans, help them get into housing and out of shelters, rebuild shattered lives, all the while doing my day-to-day work. Twelve hour days, plus, have been the norm and I have felt numb. Protection from the grief and pain. Today I met a family who had been at the Superdome, Astrodome, and now are dependent upon my organization's efforts to keep them going. They had waded through neck-high water with babies on their necks to find safety. Now they are here in my community with no resources. I signed affadavits of their identity so they can get mail and possibly work.

I went to a local shelter to help feed 150 people who still have no where to go. Their amazing spirit in the face of total loss brought the reality of what has happened to the forefront of my heart. I couldn't deny it any longer. To see these people who have nothing left of their former lives dancing and finding the spirit of life there in this shelter touched that part of me that I have kept at a distance and I couldn't deny it any longer.

I held a young child, he was maybe 2 years old. He was stiff at first but slowly I felt his body give way and he leaned into me, moving to the music being played. I help him and swayed, sending all the love I had into his tiny self. I could feel his sadness. I could feel his need to just be loved and feel safe in this world. It broke my heart. I fed him ice cream and think it might have been the first time he had ever had this experience. I saw his mother dancing all alone in the corner of the gymnasium and she had such a sad gracefulness about her - and it was beautiful.

There is both a brokeness and a beauty present in our world. And then there was music and the people danced.

And there was hope.

They finally get it right!

I am at a loss

I keep myself busy - so busy I don't have to think about the disaster of our nation.

I didn't go to the worst hit area. But I went to do what I could. I learned to use a chainsaw and now think it might be a future career possibility. At least with a chainsaw I can clear a path. There is so much lost. And for most people - there is no help on the way. All across the devastated area, people are trapped and stranded. They did what they thought was enough. They had water and food for three days. People gathered in the strongest home in the neighborhood. And now they are running out of everything. People are still trapped in home by fallen trees and power lines. If they are still alive, they won't be for long. There are so many small towns totally devastated and no help on the way. It is more than I can take in. I don't understand how this happened - and maybe I don't want to.

I am at a loss for words. I am at a loss for tears. If I let myself cry I may never stop. A city gone. Hundreds of thousands of people have lost everything. And it is so difficult to help them. I've been trying because it is the only thing to do to keep it all at bay. We have allowed our nation to tolerate poverty and ignore people who lived in conditions most of us can't imagine for decades. And now "those people" have suffered more indignities and horrific conditions as we watched on tv. Maybe we will say "never again" and really mean it this time.