One of the things that had the biggest impact on me while I was in Waveland was actually very simple. But I think it's funny how those simple, basic things are often the most vital bits you need for life and yet you totally over look.
We met a woman, Janet, who is just now getting her house built back. Before Katrina I think her family had a house there for atleast 50 years. They had passed their land down for several generations. She's less than 200 yards from the beach front and was planning to stay through Katrina like she'd done with other storms, until it was moved up to a category 5 storm. She evacuated to Florida, and after the storm passed and the waters went down came back to live in a tent on her land. She said that with all the debris, it was basically like taking a tent to a landfill and living there. She came back to no house, no job, she'd lost friends, neighbors...then there was the long process of trying to locate people who left.
So in all of the stories she told us about her life through and after the hurricane, a couple things struck me most. The first was her attitude about work. After the storm, she hadn't even really thought about working yet. A woman drove by and stopped by Janet's land and asked if anyone needed a job. At that moment it hit her that she had no job anymore. So she quickly jumped at the chance to work. She became part of the cleanup crew for her town. I can't imagine already having to face going through all the debris of my own home, but also having to go through everyone else's. But she said something that really changed me. She said she was grateful for the job not just because it was work, but it gave her the chance to be part of the solution. She said after the storm she learned to be grateful for what she is able to do, anything that she could do herself, she wants to do because she knows its such a gift. I'd say before I met her, I had an attitude much like she said she did before Katrina. There are a lot of things I could do myself but I'd rather let someone else do for me because it would take more effort for me than them.
Janet also told us about coming back to a place where there was nothing left but debris. When you go through a disaster like Katrina, she said you learn what's really important. It's fire and water, plants and animals, friends and family. And it's the invisible things that hold them together. It's love and the like that are unseen but most important. And it's the invisible that no one and nothing in this world can take away. Often people would say that as much as Katrina took away, it gave back so much more because they appreciate that now. I'm starting to see it too...
Monday, August 24, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Pieces of Waveland
I just got home from Waveland Mississippi a couple days ago. As dramatic and cliche as it may sound to say "I am forever changed" yet again after a mission trip, it is true. I have so much to share after that won't all fit into one blog post, so I'm just gonna start with this bit.
I think going into a place devastated by a storm such as Katrina, you expect wear and tear, you expect there to be major damage. But nothing prepares you for the nothing. Simple concrete squares and a few beams are the only remains of the houses that once stood so strong. Weeds and dying trees stand where families used to be in their yards. Nothing.
One dear woman described their struggle to rebuild something like this... "You take a child out to that beach, and they'll start shaping tunnels and finding ways to run the water in to the sand and such. They'll shape it into something that works better, they'll leave their mark. We can throw up our hands in despair. But we can all shape our world, we can all change our world and impact it somehow. You look around at all the mess and you say 'Well I've got an extra tent, I've got some old bathtub, and I've got this old wood stove, how can I use this to make our lives better?' and you do what you can and use what you do have." She turned that stuff into a small bath house of sorts for friends and neighbors. And that's how they've been doing this. Bit by bit. Living in tents around debris heaps, sharing found bits of debris with neighbors 'till some kind of mementos are restored. Opening already shattered lives to the volunteers, the strangers who come to offer help. They pull together the bit they can from what was, and look forward with thankfulness to what is and will be.
The people we met persevere in tragedy and human failings. They are thankful for the simple help and love we came to bring. The people understand the difference between what you need and what you want. Between stuff and what is truly valuable beyond monetary payment.
I held the pieces in my hands, and I can't forget it. I can't forget the emptiness of the land, the debris that still lies waiting to be found. I can't forget the people who face the devastation and rebuild shattered dreams and lives. Finding new dreams, new life, and renewed hope in something more than what is tangible.
A piece of a steel and concrete wall from a house in Waveland.
How can I say what flooded my heart as I held the bits of the homes of people in Waveland? I held pieces of the houses where they made their homes. Not just pretty little houses where they lived it up on the beach, but the place where their families had lived for generations, houses that they had strengthened to with stand many storms before. All my judgements and preconceived notions were put to shame and revealed for the foolishness they were.
I think going into a place devastated by a storm such as Katrina, you expect wear and tear, you expect there to be major damage. But nothing prepares you for the nothing. Simple concrete squares and a few beams are the only remains of the houses that once stood so strong. Weeds and dying trees stand where families used to be in their yards. Nothing.
One dear woman described their struggle to rebuild something like this... "You take a child out to that beach, and they'll start shaping tunnels and finding ways to run the water in to the sand and such. They'll shape it into something that works better, they'll leave their mark. We can throw up our hands in despair. But we can all shape our world, we can all change our world and impact it somehow. You look around at all the mess and you say 'Well I've got an extra tent, I've got some old bathtub, and I've got this old wood stove, how can I use this to make our lives better?' and you do what you can and use what you do have." She turned that stuff into a small bath house of sorts for friends and neighbors. And that's how they've been doing this. Bit by bit. Living in tents around debris heaps, sharing found bits of debris with neighbors 'till some kind of mementos are restored. Opening already shattered lives to the volunteers, the strangers who come to offer help. They pull together the bit they can from what was, and look forward with thankfulness to what is and will be.
The people we met persevere in tragedy and human failings. They are thankful for the simple help and love we came to bring. The people understand the difference between what you need and what you want. Between stuff and what is truly valuable beyond monetary payment.
I held the pieces in my hands, and I can't forget it. I can't forget the emptiness of the land, the debris that still lies waiting to be found. I can't forget the people who face the devastation and rebuild shattered dreams and lives. Finding new dreams, new life, and renewed hope in something more than what is tangible.
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