I doubt I’m alone in having run the gamut of emotions this past week while the world watched as tragedy unfolded along the Gulf Coast. Sadness, horror, anger, rage, helplessness. I doubt anyone in the world who bothered to pay attention escaped most of these feelings. What I used to see as melodrama in disaster films became stark reality.
A couple of times I started posts here, and I found that just writing about it didn’t feel right. It was too much like what I saw leaders doing, or appearing to do, merely talking about the problem when action needed to be taken. And how can I really complain about them? What am I doing? I saw what was happening as horribly familiar—it reminded me of the lifeboats on the Titanic, only on a much larger scale. Suddenly class, racial, and economic distinctions stood out in relief. I found myself wondering what it meant about America when the Gulf Coast called 9-1-1 and got put on hold.
Some emotions that run strong for me through it all, interwoven with the more difficult feelings and questions, are gratitude, humility, and a desire to do something—anything—to help. If nothing else, this event made me grateful for what I have. I can’t watch other people lose everything, see their world literally flattened, then get up from watching the news and complain about—well, anything at all, except how long it takes to get help to those people. Everything else is trivial. Life is reduced to its simplest basics. Water, food, shelter, safety, and assistance.
Enough is still not getting done. It’s a huge task. There are inefficiencies and deficiencies in our system. We’ll have to work on that later. But . . . there are heroes out there today, hard at work, volunteering their time or doing their jobs, and in some cases risking their own lives to rescue, offer aid, shelter, medical care and even their homes to those who’ve lost theirs. People in need themselves are helping each other. Many of the rest of us, who have no particular skills or means to offer and perhaps not much money to give, can at least offer our hopes and prayers, and keep our eyes open for any opportunity to do more.
Everyone feels small right now. But the more we do the stronger we feel. When we do it together we’re still small as individuals, but we’re part of something bigger, stronger, more helpful, even more eternal. Our singular names blend and disappear into the fabric that is humanity. That’s not such a bad place to be—one of millions of threads in a blanket used to give comfort and aid. Even a $10 dollar donation strengthens a thread in that blanket, perhaps at the place where it would otherwise break. You don’t have to be rich to be an important part of the solution. In the greater scheme of things perhaps it’s the smallest gifts, from those who have the least to give, that count the most.
When all is done that can be done, don’t forget to write to your elected officials and tell them what must change.
Some places to donate:
AmericaCares
American Red Cross
America’s Second Harvest
Convoy of Hope
Habitat for Humanity
The Humane Society of the United States Disaster Relief 2005
Hurricane Katrina Louisiana.gov
MercyCorps
How to choose the right charity:
Best Ways To Help Katrina Victims
Caution urged in Katrina aid donations
Charity Navigator
How You Can Help The Victims Of Hurricane Katrina
1.
It makes one feel so very hopeless, doesn’t it? Portland will probably get 1000 people and we were brainstorming at church this morning on how to get involved. My husband is on the board of the social service agency for our part of Portland and they are going to try to get involved…we may take in a student or a family, if it is needed. We feel very blessed, that is certain.
Comment by violetismycolor — September 4, 2005 @ 7:23 pm
2.
Los Angeles will get students who will need transportation to schools and that will be my job, once they arrive.
What sticks in my craw is this: when the hurricanes hit Florida, Bush the president declared an emergency *immediately” and arrived in person to help brother Bush.
When the hurricane hit Louisiana…well, the story is still being told a week later. And I don’t need to repeat the scenes of Bush the president continuing with routine political speeches while poor people were drowning in their attics.
I don’t expect miracles-after all, we can only do what we can do. But I do expect appropriate actions and response from government, fairly exercised no matter whose constituency. We are all one people, after all.
Comment by Sarah — September 7, 2005 @ 1:12 pm
3.
I like what you wrote Barbara and yes it is a hard subject to approach and from what angle. It is difficult to know what to say what to write and what to do. Except to give money and of course how much of that do we each have to spare? I had a lot of trouble this week just finding a fitting contemplation for my yoga classes that I teach. Yes, this situation does make one feel small. Water, now that is such a powerful thing and so destructive. And here in Californina we thought fire was so bad. It is keeping me awake at night. Thanks for writing what you did. And of course don’t get me started on the snail like response and the politics… My thoughst still seem to go back to the pets. I know how comforting my dogs are to me, and along with the human lives being ripped away and separated, so were/are their pets. Sighhh…
Comment by Layna E. — September 8, 2005 @ 1:48 am
4.
Here’s a current news item detailing some of the deficiencies of the Red Cross as a charitable organization. I’ve taken a few choice quotes and embedded them into a hyperlink. I wish I’d read this before donating a few dollars to them for Katrina, it’s a good read that touches on both the Red Cross’s history and some court decisions about it.
Comment by Ken — September 13, 2005 @ 12:58 pm
5.
that is so wonderful
Comment by jonathan — August 29, 2006 @ 9:19 am