Last week as I stood in line waiting to see if the Red Cross needed volunteers at the F.G. Clark Activity Center-turned-safe haven for evacuees, I overheard a conversation between two men standing in line behind me.
From their appearances, it was obvious both men had come from New Orleans to find refuge in the Minidome. One of the men looked young, about in his early twenties. He was tall, light-skinned, muscular, and had on nothing but blue jean shorts and socks. The other man was probably in his late thirties. He was short, brown-skinned, plump and had on a t-shirt, jeans and sandals.
The younger man spoke to the older man with rage and anger.
“This is bull@#$*! I have nothing,” he said. “I wish I had stayed in New Orleans and died.”
The older man responded in a soft-spoken tone.
“Man, I lost everything too,” he said. “But I am thankful to have my life.”
“Life! Is this what you call living,” the younger man asked. “Do you really think that life is worth living right now? Honestly, what do you have to live for?”
The older man replied, “I have to live for my children.”
With sadness in his eyes, the younger man said, “At least you have something to live for. I don’t.”
After he said that, tears began to fill my eyes and I stopped listening because I didn’t want the tears to start falling. The question, ‘What do you do after the storm?’ lingered in my mind. Furtively, I tried to envision myself being an evacuee who had lost everything and I wondered about what I would do. Honestly, I’d probably want to die like the young man did.
Then I remembered something that my youth pastor Jack Tolbert told me when I was in high school. He said that life is full of storms, but if you can live through them, then by all means live.
I know the answer to my question now.
What do you do after the storm? Well, you live. You live because life is filled with numerous storms; whether they’re external like Katrina or internal like the turmoil, questions and confusion going on inside of the minds of her victims.
You live, if not for yourself, for the life of another. So that you can tell the story of how – despite your circumstances and surroundings – you endured and remained strong.
To those of you who were victims of Katrina, my prayers go out to you.
To those of you who were blessed to not be affected by this disaster, keep the victims in your prayers.
To everyone out there, remember that during the storm there must be heartache and pain, but after the storm, don’t dwell in your sorrow. Pick up the pieces of what’s left in your life and prepare for tomorrow. Thank God for allowing you to see another day and continue to live because life is worth living for.
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What do you do after the storm
September 9, 2005
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