The stories of the clergy charged with organizing and coordinating the relief erffort were horrifying, what else would you expect. The creaking of the houses, the screaming of the children whose fear could not be tamed by family’s card games, manifold misery after the floods receeded, including the experience of “compassion fatigue”, a new word (for me, at least) to describe the burning out of helpers. And suddenly, in the midst of all this horror, a diffferent moment captured in the narrative of Pastor Walk Jones: The electiricity was gone for weeks, and they could see the stars again. There were lying in the grass together with neighbors and friends and watched the starred sky. A moment of hope, not much more as a moment.