Winding Down
Today is our last full day here. That makes it a really tough day for most, if not all, of us. We are winding down our work at the various worksites; getting ready to say good-bye to the homeowners we've been helping; envying those teams who will stay here after we leave; feeling the frustration of all that there is left to do; and knowing that this experience has changed our lives completely.
The worksites will be shutting down at noon today, and we'll head to what is left of a beach area (it is officially still closed due to contamination and such) for a picnic lunch. We'll be sitting in a parking lot, away from the sand that we should really not walk upon. The area is still bereft of sailboats, casino barges, people sunbathing and shell-gathering. But you can perhaps appreciate what the scenery was like once, long ago.
Maybe we'll hear the sound of construction from where we'll be, and I suspect we'll have mixed emotions about that. You do want to cheer for reconstruction and new jobs, and an invigorated economy, after all. But it also means that something was lost first, before the rebuilding. And it means that life here will be completely different.
Oh my...
As I was writing the above, several people in Java Joe's stopped by my table where I've been writing so many times this past week. They hug me. They thank me profusely. They express, once again as so many people have down here, that they are touched and surprised to see us here, and that they are so very grateful. They say that sometimes it just seems like the world has forgotten them, but then they see the volunteers (and sadly, they say, there are so few volunteers) and they know that someone out there cares. The last woman I just spoke to said that she is praying for me, that I have brought blessings here, and that she knows that somehow the stories of people here are reaching others "out there."
Honestly, it is just about all I can do to keep from crying. But there is work to do, and not much time left to do it in. I think I'll just post some photos for a while...
The worksites will be shutting down at noon today, and we'll head to what is left of a beach area (it is officially still closed due to contamination and such) for a picnic lunch. We'll be sitting in a parking lot, away from the sand that we should really not walk upon. The area is still bereft of sailboats, casino barges, people sunbathing and shell-gathering. But you can perhaps appreciate what the scenery was like once, long ago.
Maybe we'll hear the sound of construction from where we'll be, and I suspect we'll have mixed emotions about that. You do want to cheer for reconstruction and new jobs, and an invigorated economy, after all. But it also means that something was lost first, before the rebuilding. And it means that life here will be completely different.
Oh my...
As I was writing the above, several people in Java Joe's stopped by my table where I've been writing so many times this past week. They hug me. They thank me profusely. They express, once again as so many people have down here, that they are touched and surprised to see us here, and that they are so very grateful. They say that sometimes it just seems like the world has forgotten them, but then they see the volunteers (and sadly, they say, there are so few volunteers) and they know that someone out there cares. The last woman I just spoke to said that she is praying for me, that I have brought blessings here, and that she knows that somehow the stories of people here are reaching others "out there."
Honestly, it is just about all I can do to keep from crying. But there is work to do, and not much time left to do it in. I think I'll just post some photos for a while...
posted by Elizabeth Hokama at 11:30 AM
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