After working in my house today, right before sunset I drove up Beach Boulevard in Waveland, from Nicholson Avenue northeast toward Bay St. Louis. How many times can you say it's devastating before it gets to be a cliché?
On one of the beachfront lots, there is a FEMA trailer (which are travel campers, not full-size mobile homes) standing on the foundation of what used to be a residence. I am familiar with all of the homes along the beach, having driven up and down the beach road countless times, but it was impossible to tell which house used to be where the trailer is now. The landmarks are all gone. The owners have removed a lot of the debris and cleaned up the area around the trailer. The automatic sprinkler was turned on, watering the little bit of lawn visible in all of the gray and brown.
I have noticed the gracefulness and good humor with which the Katrina survivors on the Gulf Coast are handling their circumstances. Every day, observing myself and others, I learn more about the depth and strength and magnificence of the human spirit.
When I saw that lawn sprinkler, I thought of something else I've observed. I had just talked to a friend who lost her house and pretty much everything she owned, and almost lost her life. One of the first things she did after reaching safety was to go shopping for a new handbag. She was criticized by people, not hurricane survivors themselves, who thought she shouldn't be acting so "frivolously" at such a serious time.
But when my friend shows me the purple teddy bear propped up in one corner of her FEMA trailer, or when people decorate the outside of their trailers with twinkly white Christmas lights, or water their lawn even though there is no house, I see something really important happening, just as important as taking care of the practical business of cleaning up, making decisions, and rebuilding. We are feeding our souls.
I remember the afternoon I spent while in Dallas during weeks 2 and 3, at Half Price Books on Preston Road. I was still recovering from adrenal exhaustion at that point and had very little energy, but my urge to reconnect with something I love, that gives me joy, that feeds more than just my mind or body, was so strong. Looking back, I think I started coming back to myself during that afternoon, surrounded by all of those books.
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