December 2005
My skin burned as the needle slid into my arm. I was getting a Tetanus shot in the Camp Coast Care medical tent near the Mississippi Gulf Coast. Camp Coast Care was a joint effort by the Episcopal and Lutheran churches to serve the survivors in their recovery. Their mission, like the needs of the coast, changed daily. While I was down there, I repaired a roof, looked for a wedding band and cleaned lots.
No, I helped repair souls. I can’t think of a more Christian thing to do.
I pulled my shirt sleeve down and starting asking the medical staff about their experiences after the storm. I heard amazing tales of survival and recovery (No HIIPA laws were broken). A team of mental health experts were also there, helping Gulf Coast residents pick up the mental pieces. One statistic that has stuck with me for a decade was this:
Half the people who came in were still in shock.
Katrina was impacting the coast even months later. And I’m sure she continues to this day. I know even the small part of the storm I experienced changed how I saw the world.
Lately, people have told me their Katrina stories. The 10th anniversary has been cathartic in a way. People are opening up and cleansing old wounds. On August 30th, The Clarion-Ledger will have a 44-page special section on the storm and our recovery. I look forward to reading every single word. I will mourn our losses. I will celebrate our recovery.
We hitched up our britches as Governor Barbour said. But it changed us. We’re tougher. More focused on what is important. For me, I will never look at stuff the same way again. I remember having a moment in gas station on 49. I saw a trinket for sale that was just like a piece of debris I saw in the muck near Pass Christian. I looked at the snow globe and then closed my eyes. I saw the destruction.
I can’t imagine if that was from my home.
My thoughts and prayers go out to all who survived Katrina. I hope you have found peace and a way to rebuilt your life. Ten years later, I know that’s a work in progress.