Sunday, September 24, 2006

Rita, One of Many Storms (and Not All Were Hurricanes)

The gap has been closed.
The fence has been straightened. The two cedar trees are dim memories.

It's been a year and I have no words, only fragments of thought that may not make sense to anyone but me:
  • When I pass that certain place on the interstate, I still see cars lined up for miles, each one moving so slowly that I could walk faster than they are moving.
  • In that same place, I see my son and his buddies splitting off in an opposite direction from me. Something broke in my heart that day and I still feel that splintering.
  • It all feels surreal.
  • Honestly, there are days when I almost wish I had stayed and been blown away by the damn storm. It might have been easier than facing the "new normal" that all storms bring.
  • While waiting to go home, I got so tired of hearing "we''ll come back stronger and better" that I wanted to smash that radio to bits, even though it was our only connection to my home.
  • I'm here now, a year later with all my "stuff" intact, but my heart still hurts.
  • I strongly dislike "new normals".

And yet, in spite of continuing pain, I would have to agree with the man who prayed this morning:

"Lord, thank You for the joys of this week. And thank you for the trials of this week too, for it is in the trials that we learn perseverance."

I would also add that it is in the trials that we learn the anchor holds.

8 comments:

  1. As a survivor of a massive tornado, I think I know what you're going through. "New Normals" will be with you the rest of your life, Annie, but taking refuge in God does help ease some of that trauma.

    It is a mental scar that most of us carry the rest of our lives. Try to look on the scar as being a blessing instead of a curse. Keep remembering what was left STANDING and not just what fell.

    It will certainly help the wound heal faster.

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  2. it is a strange sadness, I know. And that longing for all that what was. I would ditto what Jules said, although I know it isn't always easy, but with time will get better.
    And yes, anchor deep........

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  3. i echo the good captain and other ladies, above.

    too much to comprehend and yet it is expected that you will pick up the pieces and continue to move forward, regardless of how splintered the pieces are.

    praying for you, still.

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  4. Thanks ladies. It isn't so much the literal storm that has me bothered as it is the continuing stuff with my son. Most days, I can keep the worries at bay by remembering the things y'all have said. Most days, I am in peace, in spite of the storm.

    I occasionally moan and groan about the "new normals", but I would be the first to complain if there were never any changes in my life!!....

    Sometimes, it seems, there is just no pleasing me!

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  5. I had thought perhaps you were already out at sea, Annie. The wife and I are driving down that way in another week, going to Pensacola for another wedding. Here, in Kentucky, in my lifetime, we've had a snowstorm or two, a minor tremor every other decade, and a few winds blow through our vicinity strong enough to be classified a tornado. Usually it is a flood in this neck of the woods that takes all somebody has. I'm glad for the anchor, my friend. Where would any of us be without it.......

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  6. I wish I could give you a big hug... and take the hurting heart away. It could have been any of us where hurricanes hit. Bless you.

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