The weekend of Hurricane Katrina, I was in Destin, Florida on a church singles retreat. It was supposed to be a weekend of blue skies, great music and spending time with friends that I had looked forward to all summer. We packed our bags and wound our way across central Georgia skirting through Eufala, Alabama until we reached our destination. I had been listening to the news about the storm, but it looked to be veering towards the far side of the gulf and I pushed it from my mind.
I woke that morning listening for one of my favorite sounds in the world, the sound of the waves lapping the sand, but it was strangely quiet. It continued to unsettle me as I looked out at the glassy waters of the gulf, shimmering with an odd stillness. The hurricane had been stockpiling all the energy of the ocean, every wave, every cloud in the sky, from one side of the gulf to her tightly wound center on the other side. She would take this power and hurl it towards the Louisiana and Mississippi coastlines wreaking havoc for miles inland. Although we couldn’t see it from where we were, we felt the anguish she left in her wake.
News of skyrocketing gas prices and clogged roadways that we needed to travel north prompted us to pack up and head home early. We stopped at a gas station with lines down the street and waited. As we waited, the stories began to unfold around us in little snippets. The woman in front of us began honking her horn in frustration and screamed at a man that he was taking too long and hogging the gas. He walked towards her and quietly explained that his home was gone, it was just the foundation from what his brother had told him, and his parent’s house had mud up to the second floor. There was chaos on the highways and people were desperate, no gas or water for miles around- no stores to buy them in for that matter. He looked haunted by what he had lost and his sorrow shamed the woman who had yelled at him. She started to cry and handed him a hundred dollar bill, apologizing and wishing him safe travel. Several other people walked over to him, handing him money, some with hugs, some uttering a quiet “God bless you”, and others without a word. Five years later, that memory still brings tears to my eyes, for both the immense loss that people suffered and the incredible kindness of strangers that it inspired.
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Tags: 5 years, Destin, Florida, Gulf of Mexico, hurricane, Katrina, kindness
