After the Storm

My first encounter with a hurricane was in October 1954 . . . a month before my third birthday.  Evidently there was a storm brewing at home, because I boldly declared my intentions to run away from home that day.  I had a plan for my "new" life . . . half a block away at my friend Ann's house.  My mother helped me pack my suitcase (which was really a sewing machine case), and away I went.  I hung it over the handlebar of my tricycle and off I went.  I hadn't gone far before a gust of wind knocked me over.  I headed home. My three-year-old stubborness was no match for Hurricane Hazel. 

I remember the devastation of Hurricane Camille all too well.  The rush of water through the Virginia mountains erased entire communities.  What I recall most, however, was the flood of volunteers who worked tirelessly to relieve human suffering.  To be perfectly honest, I have no idea how long the relief efforts lasted, or how much work was left undone, once the emergency situation had ended.

Hurricane Katrina set a new high (or low, depending on perspective) on how disruptive, destructive, and divisive this kind of storm can be.  It is heartbreaking to realize that there are still countless families who have not yet returned home, seven years later.  A lot of cracks were exposed by Katrina.  Cracks that still have not been filled.  While we can rebuild levees, it is difficult to rebuild lives if we continue to turn a blind eye to some of the underlying causes of suffering that were exposed.  While there are so many who have poured millions of volunteer hours into rebuilding lives post-Katrina, there are also many lessons that we need to learn.  More on that later, I am sure.

Last September's Hurricane Irene did extensive damage communities in New Jersey.  So much water, so much devastation as rivers overflowed, leaving a path of destruction.  Once again, countless men, women, youth and children joined forces to provide hope in the aftermath of the storm.  I am critically aware that a lot of rebuilding still needs to happen, and I wonder if we have turned a blind eye to families and businesses that are still struggling more than a year later.

Hurricane Sandy will be one for the record books.  Even now, more than two weeks after the storm ended, there are so many who have no electricity, no running water.  Whole neighborhoods have been wiped out by wind and water. 
As overwhelming as the after-effects of a "superstorm" might be, the volunteer response is also overwhelming.  So many want to help, and so many positive things have happened in the past couple of weeks. 

My concern is that we will forget all too soon that there is a lot of work to be done.  It is one thing to be there while the cameras are rolling.  It is another to remain long after everyone else has gone home.  I am grateful to be connected to an organization that is there from the long haul.  The United Methodist Committee on Relief (UMCOR) will be rebuilding lives in New Jersey and New YorK long after everyone else has left.  

It is my prayer that "after the storm" we won't abandon those who are desperately holding onto hope.  

Think about it.