Storm thoughts...donate & be exquisitely kind

“God will restore what the locusts have taken away – whether that means storms and hurricanes, fires, disastrous childhoods or marriages, and in my experience this is always true. Keep the faith.” – Anne Lamott

Hurricane Sandy, the enormous hurricane turned super-storm that battered the East Coast this week, took nearly 50 lives, caused some 8.1 million people to be without power and resulted in the cancellation of over 12,500 flights. It is being hailed as one of the costliest natural disasters in U.S. history, with damage estimates exceeding $20 billion. Twelve states were hit hard, but New York and New Jersey bore the brunt of the beast, which will leave people mopping up, hoping to recover and trying to carry on, for months.

How do I wrap my head around that, as I sit watching images of the devastation on T.V., warm in my comfy chair, surrounded by snoring pets and the glow of a cozy fire? I can’t; I simply can’t. I’ve never been in a major disaster nor has catastrophe ever darkened my door.   

I’ve been blessed with year after year of good luck, good health and, in the scope of things, very minor challenges – yet, they, at the time, seemed like almost more than I could bear. My daughter’s appendix ruptured suddenly, with emergency surgery the result. My husband was out of work for nearly two years during the peak of the recession. Quite a few dearly-loved pets have died. I fell and broke my shoulder, recently. Other than that and a few hours spent without lights during past storms and some intermittent car trouble, there have been no occasions I have had to rise to. I am so thankful for that.

Watching this gigantic storm and its aftermath unfold in the news has me wondering how I would do, if I were ever truly challenged with a monumental life event. Would I rise to the occasion or melt into a pool of despair? I like to think I’d be one of those cool-headed people who go instantly into rational action mode, rather than turn out to be the Chicken Little yelling that the sky is falling, that I fear I am.    

Anne Lamott is one of my favorite authors. She spends a good bit of time pondering spiritual matters in a very down to earth way. One of her Facebook posts this week was about Hurricane Sandy and her thoughts comforted me. Her advice is “donate, pray, breathe, wait for the water to recede, and be exquisitely kind – even to ourselves.”

She makes the point that guilt and useless mind-spinning about the woulda’, coulda’, shoulda’, what ifs don’t really help anyone at all; I agree. Unless I can get in my car and go contribute some type of action with a practical, tangible value, the best I can do for those dealing with the storm is donate, pray and be exquisitely kind to those I encounter in my part of the world, some of whom are struggling, too.  

Lamott’s pastor, whose wisdom she writes about often, says that anytime things get harsh, broken, strange, sad or crazy, something beautiful is about to be revealed. She talks about how it is in these dark, trying times that people’s outpouring of generosity is revealed, as is their ability to sacrifice for the common good, “which you don’t see all that often without darkness.”

One thing we do see, in the aftermath of disasters, large and small, is that people are resilient, generous, loving and kind. Another thing we see is that our collective sense of humor, eventually, always returns.  

I don’t know many people on the East Coast. A small group of my daughter’s best friends from college (an art school) live and work in New York City, so I know they have been impacted by this storm. It gives me comfort to think of them doing what they always do, in good times and bad, which is to breathe, dance, create something of beauty, celebrate what life and nature have most recently shown them, and exhale. Godspeed, RISD girls, and also to the so many others who have lost so much. May the “Gifts of Desperation,” as Anne Lamott calls them, abound.