Hi All. It's time to write my weekly entry, and I just don't feel like I have it in me. Who cares about my daily trivial trials in parenthood when the people of the New Orleans area have experienced such traumatic, tragic loss?
It's an absolutely gorgeous, cool, late summer day here in New Hampshire. I'm comfy in my oversized long sleeved shirt and shorts, sipping my afternoon tea and filling up on trail mix. Sweetie is snug in her crib and hubby is lounging on the sofa, watching "I Want That" on HGTV - a show that demonstrates all the cool, new gadgets for your home and yard. He deserves this rest after the morning he's had in our basement, building himself a woodworker's bench and tool storage area.
But what about the people in the Gulf Coast? They have nothing. I mean, absolutely nothing. All taken away from them by an angry freak of nature. Hurricanes are actually commonly found in nature, especially in this part of our country. But the sheer magnitude of devastation and horror that Katrina left behind is, thankfully, not so prevalent, But here we are. It's over. There's nothing to do but survive and look forward.
As a mother, it is the images of the innocent babies and children that really disturb me. At least adults can try to grasp what's happened and do whatever they are able to survive now, knowing that one day life, though never the same, will go on for them. But the children - they have no idea. They trust in the adults in their lives to take care of them so that devastation like this will never touch them. They don't understand that loss and destruction can sometimes just take over on its own. To them, life really does seem over, I am sure, and they simply don't know what to make of anything right now.
Tiny babies, who want for nothing but food, sleep and fresh diapers, can't even be sated with these simple basics. Oh, maybe now, with all the looting and the supplies that are finally coming into the area, the necessities are available to some, but I'm positive that hundreds - thousands - of others are waiting for what must seem like an eternity now for any form of help to reach them.
As a disabled woman, I also feel for my disabled companions in the New Orleans area. People who may not have been able to evacuate because of their condition, or were in hospitals that had to be evacuated when Katrina was about to hit. And for the thousands of survivors who have been injured by the storm and/or trying to pick up the pieces afterwards. I know I cannot get around as easily as others and need the added help of both my braces and walking stick to easily move about. If I was caught in the eye of such a storm I would be hard pressed to be able to protect myself because of my physical limitations. I pray that everyone who needed and still needs that added bit of life assistance was granted it in evacuation from the storm and in life moving forward.
Sure, I'd love to complain about the rising cost of gasoline in this country - but I can't, knowing that every single one of us here is dealing with the same rising costs. And, really, who cares about a little extra money at the pumps when so much chaos continues to erupt every second down by the Gulf? In fact, there are so many, now plainly made trivial problems in my life that I could complain about - I'm always tired, the house is never clean, and work is so busy. But at least I have a house, a job, and a nice, big bed to take a nap in whenever I get the chance. I feel like the richest woman in the world compared to those who've been hit by Katrina.
So, as I sit here drinking my tea, all I can really offer is my sincerest sympathy to everyone who's survived Katrina and is simply looking to regain some semblance of what life was once like for them and their family. Sympathy to the survivors who have lost loved ones in this storm and/or still have family members separated from then as a result of it.
I will continue to pack up clothing, toiletries and more. I send these down south, along with my prayers of strength to everyone who is picking up the pieces, hoping to get back on their feet and start anew. I know, there seems like an infinitesimal amount of pieces still to find and gather.