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31/08/12 04:53
I’ve been looking at the pictures of flooding in Louisiana and Mississippi in the wake of Hurricane Isaac. They remind me, and a lot of other people, of the scenes from New Orleans in the wake of Katrina. The fact that the storm landed on the seventh anniversary of Katrina’s devastation made it simple to make comparisons. We watch the videos of people being rescued with boats, of the National Guard evacuating people in the back of trucks, of lines at stores and folks wading through the water and we remember. The memories are not particularly pleasant.
How much more dramatic it must be for the people who live in the area. Frank Williams and his wife Cynthia Thibodeaux moved away from New Orleans after they lost their home to Katrina. Now they wonder what is next as they watched their new home sitting in at least three and a half feet of water. The community of LaPlace, 25 miles from New Orleans, was worse hit by Isaac than the city itself.
Patrick and Detria Hutchinson moved from the Upper Ninth Ward when their house was destroyed by Katrina. They moved sixty miles to the opposite end of Lake Ponchartrain. Yesterday they faced the crisis of a destroyed home once again.
Once again we who live in different places are watching the images on our computers aware that there is little we can do except to contribute to the recovery efforts.
And my attention is divided because as devastating as too much water is, not enough water can be a crisis too. Portions of my home state that are very familiar to me are burning up with resources running short and several fires being left to burn themselves out as firefighters struggle to save at least some of the home. Reports of injuries and losses of homes continue to arrive. The temperatures are very high. The winds are very erratic. The risk is very real.
On Tuesday evening, we paused at a hilltop to watch the Rosebud Fire burning near Roscoe. The fire is now listed at 20% containment, but there are at least 20 homes that are threatened.
A little to the west in the Yellowstone Valley in a region we call Paradise Valley, the Pine Creek fire is threatening the homes of about 200 people. No one knows for sure how many houses have been burned. It took less than a day for the fire to grow to 8 square miles.
There are fires burning and threatening homes south of Bozeman, Butte and Missoula. The 19-mile fire, south of Butte covers 4 square miles and has already burned at least 9 structures. One homeowner was evacuated by ambulance after suffering burns trying to save his house.
It is the last day of August. Theoretically cooler weather will soon be on its way, but those of us who have watched the fires across the west for years know that September can be a long month and the snows that usually come in October can be delayed until December some years.
I have friends and cousins who worked hard in their careers and saved carefully for the day when they could purchase a place in the mountains, surrounded by trees. Although I don’t know any one who is personally threatened by the current fires, I know lots of people whose homes are vulnerable to the fires. Those evacuees with the worried looks on their faces could be my friends. There were days when I used to dream of a place on the Upper Rosebud as a perfect place to retire. The fires are threatening some very beautiful places.
Facing the loss of your home is devastating whether the threat is fire or flood.
It is all theoretical for me. I have never experienced the loss of my home. I do, however, have a vocation that is often associated with impermanence. Ministers usually move fairly frequently. We agree to go where we are called. My home congregation used to see a new minister every four years or so. Compared to many ministers, we have not moved very often in our careers. We have experienced stable relationships with congregations. Even so, our time of service in any congregation is just a small slice of the story of that church.
Permanence is only an illusion in this life. We think that we can hold on to our homes and our possessions, but we are at best stewards of our property for short amounts of time. If my count is right, I have lived in 15 different houses or apartments in my life. Although the one that is currently my home has been my home for more time than any other, it is quite unlikely that it is my last. My mother considered herself to be a life-long citizen of Montana. But she lived in Oregon and South Dakota for the last years of her life.
We have homes for a little while. Our lives span only a small portion of the larger reality that is human history. I think it was Emily Dickinson who wrote something like: “All historically important people have one thing in common: they are dead.”
The illusion of permanence is only an illusion. We are in this place for a little while only. The Psalmist put it this way: “The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span is toil and trouble; they are soon are gone, and we fly away.”
It is that same Psalm that offers an answer to the question of where our home lies. We were not made for permanence in this life. The 90th psalm begins this way, “Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations. For us, home is never a place. We are not a people of any single place. We are a people who belong to God. Our home is a relationship. We put our stock not in real estate, but in love. And we believe that love never dies.
So my heart and my prayers go out to those whose homes are threatened or lost. I hope that my compassion will inspire genuine generosity. I know that it could as easily be me one day facing the loss of home and possessions. But I also know that I will always have a home.
“Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations.”
Patrick and Detria Hutchinson moved from the Upper Ninth Ward when their house was destroyed by Katrina. They moved sixty miles to the opposite end of Lake Ponchartrain. Yesterday they faced the crisis of a destroyed home once again.
Once again we who live in different places are watching the images on our computers aware that there is little we can do except to contribute to the recovery efforts.
And my attention is divided because as devastating as too much water is, not enough water can be a crisis too. Portions of my home state that are very familiar to me are burning up with resources running short and several fires being left to burn themselves out as firefighters struggle to save at least some of the home. Reports of injuries and losses of homes continue to arrive. The temperatures are very high. The winds are very erratic. The risk is very real.
On Tuesday evening, we paused at a hilltop to watch the Rosebud Fire burning near Roscoe. The fire is now listed at 20% containment, but there are at least 20 homes that are threatened.A little to the west in the Yellowstone Valley in a region we call Paradise Valley, the Pine Creek fire is threatening the homes of about 200 people. No one knows for sure how many houses have been burned. It took less than a day for the fire to grow to 8 square miles.
There are fires burning and threatening homes south of Bozeman, Butte and Missoula. The 19-mile fire, south of Butte covers 4 square miles and has already burned at least 9 structures. One homeowner was evacuated by ambulance after suffering burns trying to save his house.
It is the last day of August. Theoretically cooler weather will soon be on its way, but those of us who have watched the fires across the west for years know that September can be a long month and the snows that usually come in October can be delayed until December some years.
I have friends and cousins who worked hard in their careers and saved carefully for the day when they could purchase a place in the mountains, surrounded by trees. Although I don’t know any one who is personally threatened by the current fires, I know lots of people whose homes are vulnerable to the fires. Those evacuees with the worried looks on their faces could be my friends. There were days when I used to dream of a place on the Upper Rosebud as a perfect place to retire. The fires are threatening some very beautiful places.
It is all theoretical for me. I have never experienced the loss of my home. I do, however, have a vocation that is often associated with impermanence. Ministers usually move fairly frequently. We agree to go where we are called. My home congregation used to see a new minister every four years or so. Compared to many ministers, we have not moved very often in our careers. We have experienced stable relationships with congregations. Even so, our time of service in any congregation is just a small slice of the story of that church.
Permanence is only an illusion in this life. We think that we can hold on to our homes and our possessions, but we are at best stewards of our property for short amounts of time. If my count is right, I have lived in 15 different houses or apartments in my life. Although the one that is currently my home has been my home for more time than any other, it is quite unlikely that it is my last. My mother considered herself to be a life-long citizen of Montana. But she lived in Oregon and South Dakota for the last years of her life.
We have homes for a little while. Our lives span only a small portion of the larger reality that is human history. I think it was Emily Dickinson who wrote something like: “All historically important people have one thing in common: they are dead.”
The illusion of permanence is only an illusion. We are in this place for a little while only. The Psalmist put it this way: “The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span is toil and trouble; they are soon are gone, and we fly away.”
It is that same Psalm that offers an answer to the question of where our home lies. We were not made for permanence in this life. The 90th psalm begins this way, “Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations. For us, home is never a place. We are not a people of any single place. We are a people who belong to God. Our home is a relationship. We put our stock not in real estate, but in love. And we believe that love never dies.
So my heart and my prayers go out to those whose homes are threatened or lost. I hope that my compassion will inspire genuine generosity. I know that it could as easily be me one day facing the loss of home and possessions. But I also know that I will always have a home.
“Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations.”