[StBernard] In debris, optimist sees piles of progress

[Westley Annis]

In debris, optimist sees piles of progress

Sunday, June 25, 2006 
 
Cecile Tebo
 
The other night, as my husband and I took our evening walk around the block,
we had to detour around several new, large piles of debris. 
 
"Look at this," he observed. "More piles of progress." 
 
My take has always been, on the more emotional side, that piles of debris
are evidence of what people had lost. But my husband pointed out that piles
of debris are also signs that people and businesses are rebuilding.
 
Looking at things differently does help put life post-Katrina into a more
positive perspective. Now that it has been almost a year, I think my
perspective is beginning to change. In fact, it has had to change to
continue in this journey. 
 
I have been reflecting a lot as the one-year anniversary of Katrina
approaches. I could think about the loss, the depression, the anxiety, the
nightmares, the fear, the overwhelming sense of hopelessness, the evening
darkness and unnatural quiet. 
 
Or I could think about the things I have learned: that insurance companies
are losers, the federal government is dysfunctional, that plumbers,
electricians, roofers and contractors should all be part of your circle of
best friends, and that cats are amazing survivors. 
 
I could go a bit deeper and reflect on what has happened to me as a person
in the midst of this tragedy. I could reflect on the fact that this year of
my life has brought me face to face with who I really am and what I am
really capable of doing. 
 
I have always been told that we rest when life is easy and grow when we are
face challenges. Sometimes I think Katrina stole a year of my life. But the
reality is that I have grown more as a person than I ever had in a single
year -- and I have new sprigs of gray hair and crows' feet to prove it. 
 
My nest was full; my life was relatively blissful prior to Aug. 29. But on
that day, as my eldest son marked his 16th birthday, my nest was blown away
and he fell out, not to return to us for most of a year. The others stayed
by my side as I frantically built four new nests -- our evacuation
households -- within a year. 
 
We are almost a year older now, and I can see how we have grown. My now
almost-17-year-old survived his tumble from the nest and is returning home
grown up, taller and more confident in his ability to weather the storms
ahead. My two youngest have grown very close and learned to rely upon each
other for support. 
 
My husband has become the ultimate optimist and the savior of our home. I
have gone through a paralyzing state of depression only to come out of it
realizing that I could defeat that darkness, and I have found that my voice
is one that is needed in the midst of this rebuilding process. 
 
I have had to say good-bye to dear friends and embrace a whole new group of
people who will now be my neighbors. I have learned to accept the fact that
life is all about change, challenges, ebbs and tides. 
 
Through my work with the NOPD Crisis Unit, I continue to assist people who
have truly reached the limits of their endurance. I know a part of their
suffering now, and am able to honestly say, "Take my hand, hold on a bit
longer. This surely will get better." 
 
I have mastered the skill of "hurry up and wait" and the ability to
sometimes be still, just for a moment, and let the healing happen in its own
time. 
 
I am learning that Spanish is a beautiful language and am so grateful to
those who have left their homes for a while to help us get back into ours. 
 
And thanks to my husband, I am learning to relish the sounds of banging
hammers and blazing saws -- and to embrace the piles of debris not as signs
of loss, but as signs of progress. 
 
. . . . . . . 
Cecile W. Tebo lives in New Orleans. Her e-mail address is
aboutadopt at aol.com.