Lost But Not Forgotten

Assaulted by water. Tormented by wind. Lost in the emptiness. Nothing was left untouched and nothing would ever be the same.

It’s beautiful living in the balmy climate of the southern gulf states, but it has its price. We get the gorgeous sunshine in the summer accompanied by the 100% humidity. We also enjoy mild winters that scarcely drop below 45 degrees. But with that comes the hurricanes. Mid fall to early spring you can be sure that we break out the plywood window "decorations," stock up on generator fuel, and hope that the inevitable tropical depressions don’t pick up speed and make landfall. But it’s only a matter of time until they do. So you pray for the best and prepare for the worst.

The worst this year hit northwest of my hometown of Orlando. It was a category four by the time it ripped through Louisiana and Mississippi. Katrina played no favorites while she unleashed her fury on million dollar mansions and trailer homes alike. All that was left to do was try to pick up the pieces of what was left. But with a catastrophe like that you can’t do it alone. Having gone through three terrible hurricanes last year I had great sympathy for our neighboring states. I could understand the inconveniences, the uncertainties of what would happen next, the helplessness of having no control. So I joined a group of about 50 young people who wanted to change the world and we headed north. After a ten-hour bus ride it was evident that I had no idea what the residents of Waveland and the surrounding areas were going through. Empty, abandoned, almost forgotten. These people literally had nothing left. But we came with the intent to make a difference; we came with purpose, with a mission, with buckets and gloves. So we put them to use.

The first day my group (and others from all over the country) disbursed into the community to do what we could wherever there was a need. You didn’t have to go far to find that. Pearlington was where we started. All day we hauled chopped up trees and branches. We gutted houses since they were a rotting mess inside. The floodwaters were so high that nothing in the houses was spared. We carried garbage and made piles for our FEMA friends to cart away. The yards of three houses were cleared that day. Tears of thankfulness saw us off. The small town thought they had been forgotten. They weren’t, we just had to find them.

The second day we worked at the distribution site in Waveland. We took turns passing out essentials like food, water, ice, cleaning and hygiene supplies, and baby products. A team prepared a hot meal for anyone who needed it. Some in our group even offered entertainment to the waiting people through praise songs. We listened to sad stories, we prayed with them, cried with them, and offered them what we could - hope and encouragement.

I’m not sharing this story with you to brag about my abilities, because I have none. I’m telling you because it’s true. Life is real and it hurts. It only takes an instant to become homeless and only that long to realize how truly rich you are just being alive. So what do you do with that gift you have, that life you have? Do you change the world or just complain about being lost?