I
realized I haven’t shared at all from the last 4 weeks of working in
the disaster zone. It has become daily routine to drive through the
unbelievable sight of destruction:rubbles,bare foundations,twisted
railings and poles,bridges swept away. I was driving home after a winter
relief item distribution the other day,and passed some high school kids
going home. They were picking their way across the empty lot with just
the bare foundation. What is it like to continue your ordinary life in
what has now become completely un-ordinary? I can’t fathom. There’s also
burdens in places we don’t see. The frustration and anger from people
who are in their own homes,and are getting nothing in regards to winter
items unlike the temporary housing residents. One woman had tears in her
eyes,as she said:“We’ve worked so hard on our own,we’ve chosen to not
use the temporary housing facility,and what we get in return is no
help?”People who are displaced into temporary housing also face
challenges,as they are now removed from grocery stores or
kindergarten,making their routine of work and raising kids difficult and
straining. Each story is different. Each story unique. The incredible
thing is how people open up their hearts and share their stories. I
don’t even ask. A man tells me of how he saw his house wash away,never
to see it again. Another of climbing up a hill while pulling the hand of
the elderly mother-in-law. Another of seeing people swept away,unable
to do anything. All of them,left with gratitude for life and yet
uncertainty for the future. When I hear those stories,my heart quivers.
With compassion. And aches. For hope.
Pray for hope. Because hope
gives life. Even in the midst of destruction. I believe that,though at
times I feel like I see it not.
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