Amid the Destruction

Every morning when I drive to work I look down the same few neighborhood streets with enormous piles of tree debris in front of the houses. Some are so huge it would take at least two people holding hands to wrap their arms around the trunk. As I glance down the streets I am reminded how a big limb fell on our house a few short weeks back and I think of the heaviness of it all, pun intended. What sound did it make when it gave way? How much did the house shake or move? When will the loud, huge truck come by and take the stumps away? I know from experience that pick up will take weeks.

I cannot help but feel the catastrophic weight of it all, compounded by so much that has happened this year, locally, in our country, and in our world. I am in shock and awe at the continued statistics of infection and death from COVID-19. I recall photos and videos I have seen from protests around our country and remember the one peaceful march I participated in here in our city. I think of the devastation I witnessed after driving through Lake Charles, Louisiana last week and I am sad. A pandemic, social injustice, hurricanes, fires, crazy school schedules… will it ever end?

I get up every morning and take my kids to school and then myself to work. My husband logs on to his computer at home to do his daily work. We both bring home regular paychecks. Our children are fed, safe and healthy. Our home was damaged during Hurricane Laura, however it is already mostly repaired. I could not be more thankful for these things, yet the melancholy overtakes me. I sit and stare off into space and wonder how much more “we” can take. It is as if the last seven months or so have been rampant with turmoil and chaos, none of it which we can control. I would doubt few have remained untouched by some kind of recent tragedy.

Meanwhile, we do our best to operate as if nothing is wrong, especially for our kids. We are programmed to conduct our daily lives as usual, whether out of mere survival, or because we simply do not know another way. I think most of us are walking around full of distress and the true and heavy-lifting is left to our hearts and minds, not our muscles. We are wearing masks in more ways than one, as we smile and tuck our children into bed, telling them it will be okay, while not really knowing if it will. I worry they can probably see through the thin smile-mask, and so they carry some of it too. 

I am not sure if this year has made us more resilient or more scared. Perhaps both. What I find interesting is if you look inside my house, nothing has really changed however, if you look inside my mind so much has. I am jaded and questioning most things. I am ready for some peace but rarely find it. I pray and wish for change and calm. I see it occasionally and I try to find the good moments amidst all the not-so-good. Many days, however, I am so tired of being tired.

Last week I was reminded of simpler times while visiting my parents for the first time in over 9 months. With my mask on, I flipped through some family photographs my parents stored after the house fire they lived through earlier this year. I found some photos taken during our summer vacation in 1983, in which we camped on our way to Colorado (from Texas). I was 8 years old that summer and my paternal Grandmother went with us on the trip. The younger smiles reminded me how much it meant for her to travel with us and I could feel the love shining back at me.

I also enjoyed looking at those photos because those days seem so easy compared to now. Today I look back and appreciate my childhood oblivion, which is no longer a thing for me – for any of us. Instead I am treading water surrounded by falling trees and what feels like a crumbling world. I am living my life at max capacity, but the fullness seems like the wrong kind.

I do believe better days are ahead. I have to or I would give up. I lay awake at night thinking about how and when things will change for the better. If this abnormal-ness really is the new normal I know we will continue to adapt as a human race because we have no other choice. Most of me believes God’s got this. I still cannot help wonder what has He “got” and when will it come to fruition. I accept that I do not know, so hope keeps me going.

The tree debris will get picked up and new ones will grow. Families will rebuild their fences and homes. Life goes on, even amidst the chaos and the best we can do is be there to support and love one another as the journey continues…