#Katrina11 + #laflood = brand new perspective

Biloxi, before and after 

Hurricane Katrina.

Eleven years ago today, Hurricane Katrina changed the landscape of the Mississippi Gulf Coast where I grew up.

As tragic as that day, the months and years to follow have been, I didn't think I could feel any more strongly about personal belongings being destroyed than I did in 2005.

I thought, "You know, I'm FROM the coast. I get the sense of loss. I'm as close as you can come to being the one who actually lost everything."

And maybe I was. Maybe. 

Or maybe I didn't realize that while being away and not being able to help in the ways I wanted pained me, just as a picture of a destroyed landscape doesn't show a 360 degree view, nor does not living in it.

Panoramic view from our driveway in Baton Rouge, 

taken this evening.

Maybe I kind of missed out on the fact that driving past debris piles daily wears on you. Seeing others' belongings sitting on their street is saddening in ways you can't describe. And hearing about diggers climbing on debris mounds is both infuriating and heartbreaking at the same time.

And there's no maybe about this one -- I certainly didn't think about the toll a mass displacement takes on hosts and hostesses during this type of crisis. "Yes, please come into my home. I want to make you feel welcome. What can I do to help you?" And then silently, surely, "How long will this last again? They're nice, but...my family needs some normalcy, man." 

Then the guilt. Everyone involved feels the guilt.

Those of us who went through it wonder what we could've done better, how we could've been proactive.

Those of us not present to help want to be there to help, even when there's nothing tangible to do, and maybe even nowhere to stay while we do the nothing that's so important for us to feel like we're doing. (This was 100% me in Katrina while I was three hours' north of my family, by the way.)

Those of us present bend over backwards to help however we can. Laundry? Dishes? A place to hang out? A meal? My home? A ride to work?

It's all over the top, and we are over the top, and our emotional barometers are full before we can ever brush our teeth in the mornings.

Each anniversary of Katrina, I reminisce on my beautiful upbringing and all the places and faces I call "home."

This year is different.

This year I'm empathizing with Nan, and all the times I offered to give her something -- you know, a basic, like a nail file, and she replied with, "Well honey, I used t'have SEVEN of 'em, but now I guess they're FLOATIN' in th' GULF a' MEXICO."

This year I'm thinking about my Mother, and her multiple washings of Nan's and others' clothes to make sure they got that "Katrina smell" out and saved the saveable clothes from ruining. (God BLESS laundry and dish washing angels!)

This year I'm thinking about Pop Ball, who diligently worked at contacting FEMA and filing insurance claims and making repairs like it was his job, and I'm thankful for a husband that is doing the same, on top of his own full-time job, plus spraying the house nightly for mold and sorting through clothes as we organize ourselves in another new place.

This year I'm thinking about the many who hosted families like my own little Maricelli bunch of Baton Rouge in their homes when they were displaced by that storm.

This year I'm thinking of all the power outages, which I am thankful we are not dealing with, and all the nasty heat on the Mississippi Gulf Coast in August '05 and in Baton Rouge in August '16, and how we are all getting so much sun, but not in an ideal way.

This year, on the anniversary of the storm that changed the landscape of my upbringing, I'm thinking about the first 18-wheelers I saw coming into Baton Rouge post-flood, and how they were all from my Mississippi Gulf Coast. And the first of still ongoing Red Cross trucks that delivered meals to my neighborhood, and how they were from my Mississippi Gulf Coast, too.

No, this memory and day aren't all about what we went through in Baton Rouge, but I'm experiencing a different sort of commemoration of Hurricane Katrina, and it's all because of the flood we just experienced and, though we [read: me] are terrified, we have been shown enormous kindnesses.

Mainly, I'm keenly aware that while eleven years ago today Hurricane Katrina changed the landscape of where I grew up, and that while two weeks ago a flood changed the landscape of my present life, I am from a resilient people, and a pattern has been set to overcome tragedy. Michael and I will not just survive; we will thrive.

Our perspective may have changed, but our resolve has only strengthened.

Of all the beliefs that remain unchanged, though, there's this: good riddance, Katrina.

5 Things I'm Thankful for Today.

1. Fall weather. 60-degree temps? In the deep south? Yes, siree. Bring it on.
2. Crock pots. The scents wafting throughout the house, the prep and being able to do other things while meals are cooking, the multiple servings of meals when the slow cooker has finished slow cooking...it's all good. Literally.
3. Hope. 'Cause you know, it's a pretty huge motivator and the best non-narcotic ever. Ever. Also, it can keep you going through the next week, which is amazingly nice.
4. Football season. You know, my teams don't have to win, but it's really nice when they do. Well, when some of them do. Specifically the Saints and LSU. I'd love for Southern Miss to do well, but...maybe next year. :-)
5. A grandmother who recovers well enough from her stroke to come home. And parents who are willing to change their lives to help her. That was long, but I think necessary.

Like a Coin Hiding in the Corner.

The kids' table, which I
graduated from this year.

I've spent all thirty-six Christmas Eves of my life at my maternal grandmother's house surrounded by family.

I love being able to say this so much.

I mean, yes, I often wish I could take an entire bottle of nerve pills to gear up for it, because let's face it:

• I haven't provided anyone with grandchildren or great-grandchildren. 
• I'm still unmarried (apparently unhappily, though that's news to me) ;-). 
• I sometimes straighten these curls which I'm told others would kill for (?!), and not everyone prefers that style. 
• I'm human, and I often get grumpy. 
• And, well, it's the most wonderful time of the year. 

My mother and my Aunt Kathy
clearly found the nerve pills.

So rather than basking in the wonder of our Lord's birth, I'm guessing like most of America, I pathetically spend a lot of my pre-Christmas Eve days rushing around for last-minute gifts and cooking for parties and wrapping things and getting stressed over traffic and worrying about not helping my mom prepare for house guests (one of whom is me - yikes!) and cleaning up my own place and what time are we supposed to be everywhere and who-said-what-about-that-again-it's-CHRISTMAS-for-the-love-of-Pete-where's-the-peace-on-earth-we're-FAMILY, all while working paid jobs and living and such, too.

And I would say and maybe have said these things to the Moores, because we deeply love each other, and that old adage about standing in front of a train for any of my family members? I'd totally do it. I mean, I naturally don't want to have to, but I love them so much.

Russ and Greg missed me a lot at
the make-up session and were so
sad they had to text me this picture.

So craving for nerve pills or not, I wouldn't want to be anywhere else come December 24th. You know. We're family.

If you've hung in this far, you get the picture about Christmas Eve at Nan's.

We are a deep fried, Southern bunch who truly loves one another. We are family. Sometimes I'm one of only a few of us nine grandchildren who can be there. A couple of times, the stars (a.k.a. family/in-law rotations) have aligned, and we've all made it, even our Tennessee family who often can't come because of pastoral obligations. Those years get rowdy, as well they should, but man, are they ever the best of times!

Aunt Renee and I
model this year's bling.

Whatever the case, Christmas Eve always has a special facet about it -- sometimes the Toddler of the Year says hilarious things that crack us all up, maybe we're mourning a loss or a harsh blow of life, once in a while my uncles' jokes make my neck wildly splotch up like I have a rash, occasionally my Aunt Renee' and I will fabulously glamorize the place with our must-have Christmas hats and bling, or sometimes we're celebrating new lives that have come into our world through birth or adoption or marriage.

Those of us in adulthood stopped an official gift exchange at Nan's long ago, which as far as I know, no one complains about. (Case in point: right now, I'm blogging instead of cleaning up my living quarters, which could be featured on "Hoarders" at any given time.) So obviously, less is more for me when it comes to intake of gifts.

Sometimes Jeff can't join us
because he likes to dress up
like this for work, so I try
not to complain. Too much.

This year, though, at age 36, I, with the others in attendance, received a gift from Nan. Not the very touching, so very Nan-to-a-T "Here's a little somethin', now you use it for something NICE!" gift, but a tangible, sentimental gift in the form of an old coin that was special to her and my deceased biological grandfather. (I love that I now note "biological" since Col. Cliff "Pop" Ball saluted his way right into our hearts and my family tree.)

Anyway, that coin may not mean a lot to anyone off the branches of our family tree, but in these eyes, it's downright gorgeous. And special. And not anything that I would trade for anything -- even the chance to sit down and chat with Loretta Lynn or Michael Card in person.

And that coin, along with my oversleeping for church this morning and looking for my own alternate means of worship, led me to reminisce on the Biblical parable of the lost coin today. If you're not familiar or need brushing up, Wikipedia summarizes it:

As recounted in Luke 15, a woman with ten silver coins (Greek drachmae) loses one. She then lights a lamp and sweeps her house until she finds it, rejoicing when she does.

In the Scripture, Luke 15:8-10 states:

8 “Or suppose a woman has ten silver coins and loses one. Doesn’t she light a lamp, sweep the house and search carefully until she finds it? 9 And when she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost coin.’ 10 In the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

So because I'm me, that reminded me of a great Caedmon's Call song. I know I need to get into their new stuff, but I'm so stuck in the 90s that I went back to an old favorite, "Where I Began."

I know if you're reading this, we're clearly BFFs, so I won't be embarrassed to admit that I started this morning praying for a bit of worship in lieu of missing what went on at my wonderful church without me, but listening to this song I can sing in my sleep simply ripped my heart to shreds today. Here's a YouTube version:

Lyrics are here, with things that particularly struck me emphasized:

The grass looked greener on the other side

So I tried to snatch myself from your hand

Caught a boat to anywhere but Nineveh

And, well you know, I got spit back on dry land.

A priceless treasure.

Give me purity and many continents

But oh no, not yet.

Like a coin hiding in the corner

Trying not to be swept

And I was trying not to be swept.

Kicking against these goads

Sure did cut up my feet

And didn't your hands get bloody

As you washed them clean -- you washed them!

Here I am again, back where I began

Try as I may I can't get away from you

And all of these roads that lead me to roam

Bring me back home.

Here I am again, back where I began.

So you have yourself your ninety nine 

Isn't that enough for you?

Still you followed me to the shadowed valley

Carried me on your shoulders too. 

I've done the work of Sisyphus

Thinking that I could get over this hill

But the one thing I can't get over now 

Is the force of your will.

Here I am again, back where I began

Try as I may I can't get away from you

And all of these roads that lead me to roam

Bring me back home.
Here I am again, back where I began.

Caleb and Steve Wood, Kaitlyn Lyle
and Uncle Rick Moore hear Nan's tale
of her coins at Christmas Eve 2012.

While I'm admittedly not the brightest, it's always been clear to me the "back where I began" portion of this song isn't a physical point on a map that Siri can help me with. I knew it was a location of the soul.
But the coin part -- that grabbed me this time. Maybe it was Nan's timely, timeless gift. Maybe it was my identification with really needing to sweep today. Like, literally. My floors look like a Macy's stockroom or something.

But maybe part of it was facing that I'm legitimately sore afraid of what can happen if I truly open myself up to all that God has for me in areas I've been fiercely protecting -- namely, relationships, how I can be of service to others in an official capacity, ways I can use talents. I've been burned in all of these things before (because I'm so special; I know no one else has, right?), and for the last few years, have been really freaked out by the idea of opening myself up again.

Greg and Nan clearly mourn
my absence at Christmas Eve
Part Deux 2012. It's heartbreaking
to see family this sad at the holidays.

Dust is pretty gross, and nasty things find their ways to corners, but wow, are corners ever the safest of places. Sometimes that safety can even seem better than venturing out, because, you know, what if the Owner doesn't rejoice? What if no one comes to the party the Owner holds for you and you just feel like a regular old coin? What if you're the coin that isn't so rare and valuable?


I'm thinking today, though, that when the Giver and Owner of the coin is family, the Owner of the coin will rejoice to find the coin, no matter how much pre-Christmas Eve hustle and bustle has taken place.

And I'm also thinking that the coin will feel treasured and will, in the long run, prefer that possibly kind of painful sweeping up process to the safety of a dark, dusty corner that may seem protective with its enticing quietness, where nerve pills aren't really needed.

I've thought before that I was "back where I began" in other ways, mainly spiritually. And I believe I have been. I just haven't, before today, seen myself as that rare coin that my Owner might rejoice and throw a party over if I came out of hiding in the ways I mentioned above.

So I'm off to sweep now -- literally -- and I'll do that grateful for my wrecked, ripped up heart, and for my imperfect self, and for both a Family and a family who love me enough to throw parties and send me texts and bring special hats to celebrate our time together.

And I'm hoping my "trying not to be swept" days are over, and my openness to what God has for me in these particular ways is not over.

So, as scary as it is to leave that disgusting corner, let the party* begin.



* If you'd like to contribute to this shindig by way of nerve pills, feel free to direct message me for my address. Thank you, and happy 2013!

Five Things I'm Grateful For.

Five things I'm thankful for right now are:

1. Christmas! I love this time of year. :-)

2. Blissful boredom.  The days when drama dictated my emotions, my schedule, and my relationships were sadly not that long ago. And I couldn't be happier to be as far away from that mode as possible.

3. Health. I'm more than grateful for the good health I have, the better health I can work toward, and the modern-day options that we have to make our lives richer in the best ways.

4. Nan. My grandmother has been cracking me up for 34 years straight, and I'm grateful she's still at it. Even if I do disappoint her on a regular basis by being happily single and childless. ;-)

5. Tradition. In a world of unpredictability, it's increasingly nice to have things I can count on happening.

Weight a Minute....

I've been wanting and needing to lose weight, and last week (conveniently during my week off!), kicked off some healthier eating & exercise-inclusive habits.

My goal has been to lose 2 lbs per week, as doctors recommend. (Having grown up watching my Nan constantly on a cabbage soup diet or some worse fad of the week, I am determined to stick to dietary regulations.)

So, from last Monday night to last night, I lost not 2, but 4 pounds!

I am not sure how well I'll keep it up with Thanksgiving and such, but it's a start, and a fun new challenge. :-)

p.s. As much as I wish I could attribute this to some new, easy, healthy pill that's on the market, my "trick" has been -- shocker -- eating better & exercising. (Sorry, fellow Glamour impulse buy fans.)