An Easter Prayer for Pearlington

It's the dead of night and I cannot sleep. I find myself at my keyboard, somewhat overwhelmed. There is so much to do here and it seems to take so much to get even a little something done.

If the whole world could come to a place like Pearlington, they would understand what it is we witness here; what it means to lose everything by an act of God and then to try and hold bravely onto one's Faith. Words like dignity, integrity, trust and hope take on new meanings; no longer vague abstractions, but the stuff of everyday challenge to understand their meanings and to walk them in the world. Faith really isn't Faith until it's ALL you're holding onto. Hope is the daily waiting, looking at the mess that was once your life and praying someone will come to help. Many people in this town are holding on to both, like two life preservers keeping them afloat in a sea of broken dreams.

They never expected us here, never needed us here, but they need and want us now. Some are too proud to ask for help, some ask for too much. Many are manifesting some version of post-traumatic stress and we need to be gentle with them. And with ourselves. We can't do everything, only what we can and it serves no purpose to burn out on the altar of service. I remember back in November thinking I hadn't called home in a couple of days and almost resenting the fact that I should. It was then that I realized I was at risk of "going native," of over-identifying with the good people of Pearlington, as if they were MY people, MY town. As a therapist it's a dangerous spot to be in and a sure sign of Compassion Fatique. I had come to care so much, to be so busy on their behalf, to want to help and make the monster go away.

Now I'm back once again, rested, with a healthier perspective and still I feel their pain. It shouldn't be so hard to get some paint, some plywood, some nails. Simple things that would merely occasion a short trip to the Home Depot, but magnified 1600-fold - is daunting. And that's just Pearlington. If I only share with you the karaoke, the crab boils and the fried turkey; only talk about miracles of resource meeting need; only sound up and happy and that it is all easy, I would minimize the experiences of both resident and volunteer alike. Don't get me wrong: Karaoke Nights in the fall were fun, but I actually intended it as group therapy for all of us.

Tomorrow, I will arise and put my customary smile on my face and rejoin the adventure. I am an optimist by nature and I believe in the power of the human Spirit. I believe in all the volunteers who come here to help because that very same Spirit called them to this journey. I'm proud to be a part of this volunteer community and a friend to the people of Pearlington.

God, grant us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change, the courage to change the things we can and the wisdom to know the difference. Grant us the resources to fairly distribute to those truly in need of the materials required to rebuild Faith and Hope. As leaders and volunteers, grant us the ability to stay focused and healthy, leading by example and staying determined, organized and co-operative with each other. Guide us to the creation of 1600 miracles, 1600 opportunities to show we care, 1600 ways to find what we need to do this job. God, place the invitation in the hearts of all good people to come and join the Dance, each in the way they can do best, by sharing the abundance of this great continent with our brothers and sisters of all faiths and ancestries and beliefs in this little bayou town.

It's Easter and Christ will rise again. As will Pearlington.

Amen.

Dancing with Katrina....April 9, 2006

Little by little, on a shoestring and with Faith, we are loving the battered and once-forgotten town of Pearlington, Mississippi back to life.

It is my fourth trip here and things have changed. The noise of hammers and saws are everywhere and there is a hopeful feeling in the air. Groups from all over North America roll in and out of town, Perfect Strangers walking their talk and putting their money where their mouths are. Young people and old alike clamber through houses, cleaning and mucking out, while roofs get repaired, studs de-moulded and dry wall floated. We are a long way from being finished, but the good people of Pearlington know we will not let them down and their tears wash over us and cleanse us in a way nothing else could.

It's a simple Dream really, to want four walls and a roof you can call your own. A safe place where your children are warm and dry, with a shelf to put the very few things Katrina spared. It's not an unreasonable thing to want, yet it has proven almost impossible for the very government organizations created to achieve it. The task has fallen to this wonderful team of Dream Builders, these ordinary men and women who flock to Pearlington from the safety of their own homes and families. They labour with love and are aware they are not changing the world, but they are - most assuredly - changing THEIR world. As they give, they are given more. As they love, they are loved more. As they serve, they are served as well.

And the Circle of Life turns, as God watches and smiles.

This is what Katrina invited us to become. This is what the people of the world can do when they are called to it. This is the group of Tsunami survivors from Indonesia who arrived last week to help the people of Pearlington rebuild. This is Baptists and Presbyterians, Mennonites and Methodists, whites and blacks standing together, shouldering the responsibility of something they did not create but that needs repair. This is Dream School, alive and vibrant, faithful and hopeful and singing "I Hope You Dance" while dancing. This is the sun on the bayou and Jambalaya and Banana Pudding. This is Life and Love and it has never been more worth living.

Yesterday we held a memorial for Dr. Sidney Strickland, an old and disabled man who died last week when his FEMA trailer burned to the ground. I fought hard to get him that trailer and out of the Red Cross shelter, never knowing my efforts would end this way. The normal cycles of life continue unabated; children are born and people die, made more real and poignant by the situation. This is the cost of opening oneself up and breaking your own heart on purpose. This is Faith incarnate.

The blog I created while managing the Recovery Centre in November has proven to be a remarkable tool for organizing the relief effort from afar and communicating between groups. Look at it, if you choose, at http://www.pearlington.blogspot.com . More than a thousand people do every week and are inspired to keep helping. They do it because they can and will. They do it because, like all Dream Builders, they are sowing the seeds of their own Dreams.

Dream School International will be making an important announcement after my return to Canada on the 18th. Stay tuned. Stay awake and ready to share in all the bounty this adventure has provided me.

I hope YOU dance.