The smell, the sound of my feet sinking in the muck and the sight of destruction burned into my brain. A cold rain fell that December morning. Ninety yards away was the sleeping Mississippi Sound. In between was complete and total destruction. Even that many days away from landfall, Katrina haunted the land with the scars she left behind. Six people had died in the distance I could throw one of the bricks that lay in front of my feet. The destruction was random and yet complete. Sheetrock was reduced to doughy pellets. Pieces of fine China survived. Cars were turned into beer cans.
On the way home, my priest and I stopped at a gas station south of Wiggins. As I went to pay for my drink, I looked at a trinket for sale at the counter. I had seen a similar trinket half buried in the mud just hours earlier. My mind flashed back to the destruction I had just seen.
It was at that moment a simple truth presented itself: At the end of the day, people you love are who really matter. Not stuff. Not toys. Not things.
I’ve seen that trinket in my nightmares a few times since. I think that’s the good Lord reminding me what’s really important in life.
