Airplanes. Vans. Chartered buses. Walking. We are going places. We’re experiencing so much.

Fatigue has set in. I’m not processing very much or very quickly. We walked around a large building that hasn’t been touched yet. Our conversation went something like:
Look it’s a boat
Wow, yeah

Look, there’s a car.
Yes, it is.

That’s a car.

The devastation and lack of sleep have caught up. We sat down to look at a bridge that was in pieces. Four-lane highway now in 25’ chunks. It reminded us of pictures from an earthquake. It took us over ten minutes to realize we were not sitting on the beach, but on the rubble that used to be the bridge.


We split up this morning into five or six groups and went out into the Biloxi, MS area to work on houses, in distribution centers, and canvas neighborhoods for peoples’ needs.
One woman and her son came to the church today to pick up supplies for their FEMA trailer. She said she was sick of being called “displaced.” I asked her what term she would prefer. “Homeless. That’s what we are isn’t it?” she replied. Tell it like it is, sister. It’s amazing how simple life is. So many people we’ve met have lost it all and they have been forced to get back to basics. Over and over I hear people give thanks for simply being alive.

I have not even begun to process all that I’ve heard and seen. I cannot begin to thank all the people who have shared their grief, anger, faith, and questions. Two days to go…pile back in the van…keep moving. Breathe.

~Diana Bell
Union Theological Seminary

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