Katrina

I not much for watching tragedies on television. It may seem calloused, but I like to wait until it ends to see how it all turns out. I talked to friends who lived in New Orleans who evacuated before the storm and I watched a little bit of new coverage. I would have been fine with all of that, fine to see, when help finally came, what happened. It would have been fine to hear the next week of rescue stories and hear the triumphs and tragedies of finally finding missing families.

What I did not expect was to get mad. Steaming angry is a better way to describe it. I couldn't believe that the people didn't have at least food and water. I mean, they sent in big buses to help people get out until they filled the Houston dome, why couldn't they have sent those same buses with food and water in lieu of taking them away. I know it was scary to have the buses drive off with noone inside because there was no where to take them, but dang, it's worse when you're not even sure who's going to die beside you the next day, hoping it won't be you or your child. It was heart rending watching the condition that everyone was in. And every day in the news, you saw people blaming other people and people trying to cover their butts. You saw the best and worst of humanity.

The other day I was praying about what I could do for the people who so desperately need so much help. I wanted to just cook a bunch of food, put it in containers and drive to New Orleans, to Mississippi and Alabama and pass out food. It couldn't have been impossible, no matter how much we were made to believe it was. But I don't have enough money to do any of that stuff and I felt defeated until I was reminded that, more than anything, prayer works. So I've been praying. For shelter, for relief from the heat, for food and clothes, for diapers and restrooms, for rescue and for finding loved one. I've been praying for those whose properties weren't damaged, that they can go back to houses that haven't been looted, that they will be a shelter to those left behind.

People seem so surprised that people from New Orleans didn't want to leave their houses, their land, everything that was everything to them. I confess, if we had to evacuate, I would easily leave this place with only a twinge of regret to what we have built here. But I also understand the strength of history, how it compels us to preserve it. I would be loathe to leave a home we'd built from scratch, a home we'd lived and loved in for 50 years. That would make me sad. I understand why they don't want to leave. I understand why they should. I pray they will too.