tablets of human hearts

Day 1

Where does one begin? As we watch the devastation unfold on television, words are insufficient. How does one understand towns that no longer exist or a city that is slowly becoming a lake. How does one comprehend the incredible destruction? We knew it would be bad. But we didn’t expect miles of warzone.

Where does one begin? What is done with 1.4 million people who no longer have a city? What about the thousands of others that had homes washed away or flooded?

I am thankful we left. I am thankful that we can contact family and friends and let them know we are safe. So many cannot do so. We are unable to contact those who fled because cell phones won’t go through. We cannot contact those who remained behind and many cannot call out. Names of friends come to mind and we wonder if they evacuated. If they did not, we wonder if they are okay.

Snippets of stories come in. But news is scarce. The hardest hit areas have not even been visited by news crews. We’ve discovered that text messages are able to go through and Heather has been text messaging friends who remained in the area. Our town was hit hard, but not destroyed. We’re told our house is still standing. But we don’t know the condition of our belongings. And we don’t know when we can go back. How do people go back home, if they even have a home? Roads are impassible, bridges are out. And even if one could get in, gas is scarce at best. There would be no place to buy food, no electricity to cook it with. No way to really begin to clean up and start repairs.

I am thankful we have family that we can stay with.   When we left, we figured we would be gone for a couple of days. We only packed what we needed. We thought we’d be making plans to head back home by now. I wonder about the kids and school. Will we need to register them here? How many of the kids’ teachers lost everything? Are their schools still standing? Heather just started college in Poplarville, a town the storm went right over that we’ve heard nothing about on the news.

Please forgive my ramblings. I’m sure you can understand the myriad of thoughts and emotions that are running rampant. It’s been hard not to be glued to the news. I have tried very hard not to cry, because I’m afraid if I start, I won’t be able to stop.

Aside from worrying about our own belongings, I think of all the ways everything has changed. Life will never be the same on the Gulf Coast. Where does one begin? Not being there, I can only imagine. Part of me doesn’t even want to go back. I don’t want to face the reality of it all.

How does one pray? For strength for all the victims and refugees to go on. For endurance for all the volunteers and rescue workers. For wisdom for the governors and mayors. For miracles waiting to be discovered. So much destruction. So much death not covered by the news. Stories of hope need to be told. Stories of heroism and help need to be told.   People need to know that they are not alone. People need others to come along side and help as they wonder how to begin to rebuild their lives.

Please pray. Thank you for your replies. I’ll continue to try to keep you updated.

Grace & Peace

Is it better to be a victim or a refugee?  We decided the latter and fled Katrina’s path to San Antonio.  At 1 pm Sunday, Jon and I, along with Bob and Staci Tyo and all our kids, dogs, cats, Guinea pig and bearded dragon (we left the snake) headed north to Poplarville.  We stopped by Heather’s college so she could pick up a few things and continued to work our way northwest toward the Louisiana border and then on to Texas.  We crossed into Louisiana through Natchez around 8 pm, after spending 2 hours there in bumper to bumper traffic.  It was 130 am when we were finally welcomed in Texas by the Jasper volunteer fire department.  God bless them, they were out there in the wee hours of the morning, providing coffee, water and Gatorade to travel weary people fleeing the storm.  We were told that hotels were filled seven hours into Texas.  No worries, since we had beds waiting for us in San Antonio.  Of course, San Antonio is five hours into Texas traveling I10.  We had traveled a hundred or so miles north and had to head back southwest.  After grueling the long early morning hours, we finally hit San Marcus around 8 am and slowly made our way through morning rush hour traffic to arrive at Jon’s parents’ house around 930 am, 20 1/2 hours after we left.  Those last 2 hours seemed to last forever and I almost wondered if it would have been better to remain behind and face the wrath of Katrina.

Having had a shower, some food and a bit of sleep, and having viewed the footage on Fox news, CNN and The Weather Channel, I have decided the journey was worth it.

Now the hard part is upon us.  The waiting and wondering.  We are safe, out of harms way.  We bordered up as much as we could, secured our valuables as much as possible, and took our important papers.  Of course, now I battle regrets of what I should not have left behind, concerned that those irreplaceable things will be destroyed.  We can only trust the Lord that our things are safe and trust His sovereignty, regardless.

In some ways I wish we were there, so I would know and would be able to begin cleaning up.  But on another level, I am glad we are here in the air conditioning, with hot water for showers and electricity for cooking.  I guess we will have to put up with out those conveniences soon enough.  The predictions are dire for how long it will take to restore power.  And the devastation will be heart breaking.  I do not look forward to the drive back, a journey that will slowly unfold the tragedies of the storm the closer we get to home.  In case you are wondering where our house is, find where the eye of the hurricane entered Mississippi (over Stennis Space Center) and look to the eastern edge of the eye wall.  That would be about the location of Diamondhead, our town.

Please pray for all the victims and refugees.  Pray for strength to sustain us.  Pray for protection as we head home and begin to clean up and rebuild our lives.

God bless all those affected by Katrina’s fury.

Grace & Peace

Ten years ago today, we woke up on a Sunday morning and took another look at the forecast for Hurricane Katrina.  She was big.  She was bad.  And she was bearing down on the Louisiana/Mississippi coast.  And we lived right in her path.

Two days prior, on Friday morning, I was in San Diego, getting ready to fly back to New Orleans.  I knew there was a hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico, but at that point, she was forecasted to hit the Pensacola area.  When I landed in New Orleans later that afternoon, I called Jon to tell him I would be home in about an hour.  He told me the Hurricane Center had changed the forecast and Katrina was now forecasted to hit Mississippi.  It sounded like we might have an exciting weekend.

Jon called me again on my drive home to tell me he had received a phone call from Jonny’s daycare.  Jonny, our youngest, 7 at the time, had broken his arm and Jon was taking him to the Keesler AFB emergency room.  Just another thing to add to the excitement.  Heather, our oldest and a freshman in college, drove home from Pearl River Community College that evening.  Daniel, a freshman in high school, was already at home.

Saturday was a bit chaotic.  We made some precursory preparations.  We boarded up the windows, thinking it would provide some protection from the storm.  Jon filled up the vehicles.   I checked our hurricane supplies and pulled out our important papers folder.  We discussed whether we would stay or leave.  It was kind of surreal.  As we drove about our neighborhood, it seemed like no one thought about the hurricane heading our way.  Kids held car washes.   People walked their dogs.  Only a few seemed to make preparations.  We decided we would take a look at the forecast in the morning and decide then.

Back to Sunday morning.  Katrina still headed our way.  And she was a category 5 hurricane.  We were a bit conflicted.  We had been through Typhoon Paka on Guam (where everyone hunkers down; no one evacuates except the planes) and although it had been a bit scary, it was also kind of an adventure. We were weather forecasters.  We liked weather.  The kids liked weather.  We often sat outside to watch thunderstorms roll in.  Jon had been tornado chasing before (although he never found any).   But Katrina was not something to underestimate.   She was dangerous.  And as a mom, I knew I couldn’t stay and keep my kids in harms way.  What if something happened to one of them?  That was not a risk I was willing to take.

We headed to church to see what our friends were going to do.   Hardly anyone was there.  We talked to our pastor and his wife.  They planned to pack up and head north.  We decided to head to San Antonio, where Jon’s parents lived.  We called a friend and coworker and asked him what he and his family were going to do.  They decided to join us.

They loaded up their kids in their truck, we loaded up our kids in our van and our car, along with our beloved pets, and headed out, knowing that it would be a mess when we came back. We really had no clue as to what the very near future held for us and all of those who lived along the Gulf Coast of Mississippi, Louisiana and Alabama.

Over the course of the following months I will post, on the corresponding anniversary, the emails I wrote throughout our journey in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina.  It is a journey that still causes tears to flow.  It is a journey in which God walked with us so faithfully.  And it is a journey I invite you to remember and rewalk with me.

Grace and Peace.

If you live on the coast of the Gulf of Mexico, you know there are months where the threat of a hurricane is very real.  But when the Gulf is quiet and calm and there are no current storms being tracked, life continues in its steady rhythm of graduations, weddings, family vacations, barbecues and other summertime activities.

When a storm develops, however, you may start paying attention, to see where it goes.  And if the forecast brings it into the Gulf of Mexico, you might begin preparations, just in case.  You probably keep an eye on each forecast, in anxious anticipation of which way it will go.  And you may feel a surge of relief when its forecast takes it somewhere else.  But you won’t let your guard down because forecasts have been known to be wrong and storms have sometimes taken an unexpected turn.  And it might just head straight for you.

Such was the case in late August of 2005.   That summer, we were busy with all the things I mentioned.  But one thing I remember: I felt a an urgency to pray.  Each Wednesday my husband and I joined together with two other couples and we prayed.  I’m usually not one prone to premonitions and my intuitions aren’t always reliable.  But I sensed something coming.  I had no idea what; I thought maybe God was going to do something new with our little congregation.  Beyond that, I couldn’t say.

If you are alive, you know life can bring affliction, hardship and tragedy.  And if you’re a Christian living for the Lord and sharing the truth of His love with others, you know there’s the threat of an enemy wanting to bring you down.  However, when things are quiet  and calm and there’s nothing impending, life can take on that same steady rhythm.

But we must not assume there is no threat.  We must not be complacent.  We must always pay attention, stay prepared and keep an eye out for what may come, but not with anxious anticipation.  Rather, with prayer.
“Cast all your anxiety on him (God) because he cares for you.” 1 Peter 5:7 (NIV)
Sometimes we may feel a surge of relief when disaster misses our life. Be we can’t let our guard down.
“Stay alert! Watch out for your great enemy, the devil. He prowls around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour.” 1 Peter 5:8 (NIV)

This summer I feel the same urgency to pray. I’m not sure I’m bold enough to say I sense something coming again and if I do, I have no idea what. I’d like to think God is going to do something new with my prayer ministry or my writing. Beyond that, I wouldn’t want to say.

What I will say, however, is we must always remember:
The Lord will fight for us against our enemy
“For the Lord your God is the one who goes with you to fight for you against your enemies to give you victory.” Deuteronomy 20:4 (NIV)
He is our shelter in times of trouble
“For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his sacred tent and set me high upon a rock.” Psalm 27:5 (NIV)
He hears our cries
“I waited patiently for the Lord to help me, and he turned to me and heard my cry.” Psalm 40:1 (NLT)
He rescues us
“He reached down from heaven and rescued me; he drew me out of deep waters. He rescued me from my powerful enemies, from those who hated me and were too strong for me.” Psalm 18:16-17 (NLT)

If you, like me, sense an urgency to pray, be obedient and join in the battle cry: This day we fight!  But we will not fight like the world fights (2 Corinthians 10:3-5) instead we will “Pray in the Spirit at all times and on every occasion. Stay alert and be persistent in your prayers for all believers everywhere.” Ephesians 6:18 (NLT)

A must read

A must see

There’s a book I’m reading right now, The Battle Plan for Prayer.  I highly recommend it, whether you’re just starting to engage in prayer or you are a prayer veteran.   The book was released as a precursor to and to be used in conjunction with the upcoming movie, The War Room, which releases this week, August 28th (quick plug – it’s from the same creators as Fireproof and Courageous and its about prayer).

In the Storm

My husband painted this picture recently, something the Lord impressed upon his heart.

We have a God who is with us in every trial, every tribulation, every struggle and every storm.

In Christ, we have the victory.  He defeated the enemy.  He broke every stronghold.  He triumphed over death.

Grace & Peace

On the 10th anniversary of Katrina I find myself living on beautiful Vancouver Island on the west coast of Canada. The climate is more temperate so we don’t get the heat and humidity but when we get a gust of wind in the tall Douglas fir trees around our home, a part of me looks outside, shivers and remembers some of the events leading up to, during and post Katrina.

One particular memory is at the shelter.

During Hurricane Katrina our family found shelter at the University of Southern Mississippi’s Lab Building 1022 at the Stennis Space Center. This was a new building designated as Hurricane safe for University faculty and staff and their families. There were about 30 people staying in the building, mainly family members of faculty. My husband was faculty so we packed up our 3 kids, some sentimental items and took cover. There also was a family brought in from the main shelter at Stennis that consisted of a grandfather, a grandmother, daughter and two teenage grand-daughters. They lived south of the railway tracks in Bay St Louis, the area hardest hit.

While the hurricane screamed around us,we waited with nerves stretched thin wondering what we were going to find when it was all over. I would try to read but there was a restlessness that made it hard to concentrate. The kids brought movies to watch but were also feeling the restlessness and anticipation. At one point the waiting was interrupted by a tornado that took a piece of the roof off one of the lab rooms. A number of us scurried to help pull out, and dry off $100,000 in lab equipment, while the water from the roof overhead poured down into a drain in the floor of the room. The excitement helped to pass time.

I will never forget the high pitched screaming of the wind forcing its way through the cracks around the doors of the building. When the eye of Katrina passed over us, it was completely and suddenly silent. After being cooped up for many hours, a number of people were anxious to get outside but were told to keep the doors secured and closed because we did not know what to expect when the other side of the eye wall hit. The other side of the eye came, but with less force. We waited some more.

Finally, we were able to open the doors and go out into a world that was changed forever, both physically and emotionally for each of us. Anxious to check on our dogs, my husband set out for Diamondhead as soon as enough flood water had receded off the interstate. The kids and I again waited to find out if we still had a home and that our dogs were OK.

The usual 15 min drive home took hours to go and return.

As the sun set, we sat in chairs in silence outside of that lab building and listened to the first reports of casualties to human life, to buildings and more on the radio. Many people, myself included, cried. The elderly grandfather would crank his radio and we listened to people that still had cell service call in with reports. I will never forget the anguish and emotion in voices of strangers. It brought me to tears. They said things like “bodies in the streets”, “the casinos are completely gone, washed away”, “I have nothing left”, “the Kmart in Waveland was completely under water”, and “everything south of the tracks along the coast has been destroyed” The radio would start to lose power and before the grandfather could crank it again, everyone was sniffling.  I remember hearing the daughter murmuring “it’s all gone, it’s all gone”.

Crank, crank, crank…

We later found out, they had indeed lost everything.

My husband made it back late, but was able to report our dogs were extremely happy to see him and fine. Our home was still standing, although we had some large trees on the roof. The water was up to the edges along the highway and the streets were not passable in Diamondhead due to so many downed trees. He had had to park and hike in to our house. We were able to leave the shelter the next morning and go home. Something I felt so grateful to be able to do. So many did not have homes to return to.

When we left the shelter early the next morning we exchanged contact information with a number of other people. Although our cells had gone silent at Stennis we had a 2 hr window of use when we made it back to Diamondhead. I was unable to call anyone in the US however; I was able to call into Canada. I called my mother in Fredericton, NB and gave her a list of names and numbers. She made contact with anxious friends and relatives waiting to hear in our family as well as other family members of fellow shelter residents.

The aftermath of clean-up survival is a whole other story.

The one thing the hurricane did show me is that, ultimately when disaster hits, most people pull together and help take care of each other. There is goodness in the human spirit that can be found in most people.

Christina van Driest currently lives in Sidney, BC Canada. She is in the middle of renovating a home with a view of mountains and ocean. Chris and her husband David Dodd are very pleased to have all 3 of their children now residing close by on Vancouver Island. At the time of Hurricane Katrina, Chris and her family lived in Diamondhead, Mississippi.

Grace & Peace