Hard Times

Almost exactly a year ago, I sat transfixed in front of the TV, watching an ominous swirl of clouds approach the Gulf Coast. The wind blew, and the sky got dark, and then Katrina came. The nation watched the tragedy that swamped New Orleans and much of Mississippi with murky water and governmental ineptitude.

This morning, I saw a documentary update on the rebuilding process. Some people are managing to recreate a semblance of normalcy in Louisiana and Alabama, but many other families still live in FEMA trailers, crowded in with relatives, or remain "temporarily relocated" in Dallas and other cities across America.

I wonder what those people think about every day when they wake up. Do they hear the sound of rushing water and people screaming for help?

Do they mourn every moment for lost memories, photographs, friendships, opportunities, the familiarities of home?

Or are there more immediate struggles that eventually start to outweigh those enormous burdens?

Children starting another year of school need new shoes again, parents heading to the office or factory every morning still don't feel fulfilled by their work, the car which helped them escape the rising water is low on gas again. Couples continue to argue about money, or how to communicate more effectively, or where to spend Thanksgiving this year. Single people still wonder if they wouldn't be happier if they were in a relationship. Elderly people feel the everyday aches and pains of an aging body.

These difficulties have nothing to do with Katrina...it's just life. Is that an easier storm to weather?

How do you survive devastation? How do you survive at all?

There's a Reva Williams song that asks, "Why can't 'hard times' be tornadoes, or monsoons, or just an earthquake?/ It's the small things, not 'the big one' that tear us down, that make our hearts break."

Lord, I lay these small things at your feet. Forgive me for being selfish, for being stubborn and prideful, for forgetting what's important. I want to cling to your throne as the waters rise and subside, and not wander away even on sunny days.