I ran into Walter today at the post office as I waited in line for what felt like hours. The first 15 minutes or so was pretty much silent as we all waited to hear, “Next”. Before too long, the conversation began with everyone in line about… you guessed it… the tornado. A lady that was with Walter started the conversation with the lady behind her, but by the sound of her voice, the conversation was open to everyone. As they traded pleasantries, Walter’s friend finally got around to asking where the other lady was from, and out of no where, the tears came.
This second lady started to recount the story of the storm and how it came right past her house (for those of you Tuscaloosa natives, she lives behind Big Lots). While pretty much every other house around her was no longer standing, all it took for her was a large square of tarp to repatch her roof and her house was fine. She struggled with the question of why her house was spared when all of her neighbors’ houses were destroyed. While she didn’t have a ton of physical damage to her home, she was still trying to comfort her young kids, and the emotional damage she experienced was certainly taking its toll. It was a new side to this thing I hadn’t thought about yet.
By this time, I hadn’t jumped into the conversation just yet, but I was invested in this lady’s story. Walter could tell I was interested, so he started in with me. He asked me where I was and what damage I had experienced, and I almost felt bad saying I was completely spared and had actually been working my typical 9-5 for the last two weeks. He reassured me that I would have my time to help out too (always appreciated), and he just reminded me how much there was to do. I shot his questions back at him and was kind of surprised to hear what I heard. He told me he had been in a well hit area (Crescent Ridge) and his house was somewhat spared. He lost most of his roof and all of his kitchen, but the back third of his house was pretty much untouched. He wasn’t living there anymore, but had promise of returning someday.
Walter was another one of the “lucky” ones that was in the midst of all the damage but was pretty much left in decent shape. He told me how he felt bad that most of his neighbors were staring at rubble as he was looking at his house with promise of rebuilding. His only disappointment was that he wasn’t approved for assistance from FEMA. I could tell he didn’t want to get into a political argument, so he quickly changed the subject to the help he had gotten from the community. He didn’t flat out say it, but it was almost like he didn’t need the government assistance – despite his situation – because of how the community had responded to him.
I finally had to ask him if he was angry or bitter about all of this, and he just smiled. He told me that it was hard for him to be bitter when on one side he had neighbors wading through rubble, and on the other side he had volunteers coming to meet all of his immediate needs. It’s now been over two and a half weeks since Walter’s house, and life, have been normal, but he is still smiling. About that time I heard, “Next” and it was my turn. I didn’t get the chance to ask Walter what was keeping him smiling, but there was definitely something bigger at work. When what’s in front of you becomes your world, life comes crashing down with it WHEN the storm comes. We need to fix our eyes on things we can’t yet see because you can’t take something away that isn’t here yet. So I fix my eyes on heaven because that’s my end goal and I’m willing to bet my life that it will be there when my time here is through.
