The morning started slowly this Saturday, the first Saturday after the fire. I made my way to the grocery store where I found it eerily void of the masses that usually shop on Saturday mornings. The aisles were mostly empty, there were no bottlenecks on the bread aisle, no waiting on a break in the line of people with baskets moving in and out of each aisle. I was in and out of the store in record time. I've not known that before.
We headed up to the Producers Market on highways with less cars. I was the only person in the market. I visited with the lovely man that operates the building. We talked fire and community and change.
After lunch, a tour of the downtown area revealed life I've not seen in My Town for nearly a week. I saw vast donation areas, filled with all kinds of things, from food to clothing to furniture. Everyone is giving and that is because everyone is in need. The warm temperatures detoured not a soul. People were out there, under tents, handing out water, making food, helping with insurance claims and just listening as people talked.
And I saw people. Lots and lots of people. My Town was packed. I saw people from other towns here volunteering their time and resources. An outpouring of affection for a town and its people.
Today has renewed my spirit and allowed me to see that we will be OK. From Mary's email this morning telling me thoughts about rebuilding her house, to the distribution centers filled with cars and people. There is life after the fire. Its different but considering how we feel about each other now, in many ways it will be better.
As long as the fires stay away, we can move forward. Forward and beyond three days we would just as soon forget.
Showing posts with label helping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label helping. Show all posts
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
A Gathering of Angels
My daughter Jamie came home today from work with a story I just had to share. This is a true story. It happened today.
After her 30 minute commute to her place of business, she got out of her car in the parking lot. She noticed a dog. A big dog at that. It was wondering around the parking lot, obviously either lost or dumped by someone who no longer loved it. Jamie saw how thin and fragile this large dog was from days in the hot Texas sun. Jamie kept walking and entered the building and headed to her desk to start working.
Her coworkers, Alice and Veronica came into the office looking for water. Jamie went outside and found Wanda with the dog which turned out to be a Husky, a very thin, very thirsty Husky.
The office is located on an extremely busy highway, traveled mostly by large trucks. Wanda had seen the dog head towards the highway and ran after it, keeping it from entering what would have been a certain death. Alice brought one bowl of water after another. The dog drank and drank and drank. So thirsty for so long, so lost for so long.
Weak and unsteady on its feet, the dog was calm, responding to the ladies talking to her and petting her. She drank the water and collapsed under their gentle, loving hands.
"This is the same dog I saw walking up the highway yesterday about five miles from here" Wanda said. The dog had been enduring temperatures of over 100 degrees every day with virtually no food or water to be found. This poor dog had endured so much. The ladies agreed that another day without food and water in the heat would have killed this gentle soul.
Carly came outside to see why everyone had left the office. Carly lived alone since her husband had passed. Her sons were grown and living on their own. She said "That's a pretty dog". The ladies were discussing what to do with her. They didn't want to call the City as they knew, from the looks of her, she would be put down that very day. She was so weak and so frail. Jamie's mind was already moving in the "I'll take her home" direction, even though we already have four cats and no one is at home during the day. A temporary home we could do, but nothing permanent. It would be just too much time alone for a dog in such need. She kept her thoughts silent and waited with the ladies.
It was as if the dog knew Wanda had saved her as she would not leave her side. Her collapse found her at Wanda's feet. The ladies waited with the dog while Wanda called her husband and asked him to come and get the dog and take it to the Vet. It was apparent the dog was in desperate need of medical attention.
Wanda's husband arrived and determined that in his work vehicle, a trip to Vet would be difficult and require several transfers, alot for a dog in such condition.
The ladies continued talking about who could possibly take the dog, even for a temporary home. They grew more determined to save the dog.
Carly said "I can take the dog, I've got 60 acres for that dog to run and play in". "What should I name her?" Carly asked.
Veronica said "Why don't you call her White Fang?". "Ugh, wasn't White Fang a rabid dog or something?" Jamie asked. "No, White Fang was a Husky" Veronica replied. "Well, that's not a good name for this dog." Jamie said. The sad appearance of this gentle giant did not blend with the strong name suggested.
Carly told the ladies to let the supervisor know she was taking the dog to the Vet and she was taking her right now. With that, she loaded up the dog into her car and off they went.
The trip to the Vet's office was a good trip and the dog listened while Carly talked to her and kept her calm. The Vet, upon hearing the story, agreed to treat her for free. No expenses incurred for this good deed in progress. The Vet determined that this Husky was about 7 yrs old, tests indicated she was heart worm free. But she did have cataracts in both eyes. They began filling her dehydrated body with fluids and fed her with a tube, pushing life sustaining liquids and nutrients into her emaciated body.
Carly returned to work and told the ladies that she had called her son. He had just recently lost his own pet, which was a Husky. He told his mom "Mom, I don't care whats wrong with her, I'll take her. She will have a home with me."
So, the lost gentle giant that was this wandering dog, stumbled into the right parking lot, on the right day and was surrounded by Angels. The Vet office continued the day's miracle by providing free treatment and care. In the end, the man who needed a dog, found a dog. And the dog who needed a home found all the love she will ever need. No more hunger, no more thirst. Just love.
Who ever said Angels don't run in packs never met these ladies, that Vet or this dog.
And that's what makes this day and this story worth sharing.
After her 30 minute commute to her place of business, she got out of her car in the parking lot. She noticed a dog. A big dog at that. It was wondering around the parking lot, obviously either lost or dumped by someone who no longer loved it. Jamie saw how thin and fragile this large dog was from days in the hot Texas sun. Jamie kept walking and entered the building and headed to her desk to start working.
Her coworkers, Alice and Veronica came into the office looking for water. Jamie went outside and found Wanda with the dog which turned out to be a Husky, a very thin, very thirsty Husky.
The office is located on an extremely busy highway, traveled mostly by large trucks. Wanda had seen the dog head towards the highway and ran after it, keeping it from entering what would have been a certain death. Alice brought one bowl of water after another. The dog drank and drank and drank. So thirsty for so long, so lost for so long.
Weak and unsteady on its feet, the dog was calm, responding to the ladies talking to her and petting her. She drank the water and collapsed under their gentle, loving hands.
"This is the same dog I saw walking up the highway yesterday about five miles from here" Wanda said. The dog had been enduring temperatures of over 100 degrees every day with virtually no food or water to be found. This poor dog had endured so much. The ladies agreed that another day without food and water in the heat would have killed this gentle soul.
Carly came outside to see why everyone had left the office. Carly lived alone since her husband had passed. Her sons were grown and living on their own. She said "That's a pretty dog". The ladies were discussing what to do with her. They didn't want to call the City as they knew, from the looks of her, she would be put down that very day. She was so weak and so frail. Jamie's mind was already moving in the "I'll take her home" direction, even though we already have four cats and no one is at home during the day. A temporary home we could do, but nothing permanent. It would be just too much time alone for a dog in such need. She kept her thoughts silent and waited with the ladies.
It was as if the dog knew Wanda had saved her as she would not leave her side. Her collapse found her at Wanda's feet. The ladies waited with the dog while Wanda called her husband and asked him to come and get the dog and take it to the Vet. It was apparent the dog was in desperate need of medical attention.
Wanda's husband arrived and determined that in his work vehicle, a trip to Vet would be difficult and require several transfers, alot for a dog in such condition.
The ladies continued talking about who could possibly take the dog, even for a temporary home. They grew more determined to save the dog.
Carly said "I can take the dog, I've got 60 acres for that dog to run and play in". "What should I name her?" Carly asked.
Veronica said "Why don't you call her White Fang?". "Ugh, wasn't White Fang a rabid dog or something?" Jamie asked. "No, White Fang was a Husky" Veronica replied. "Well, that's not a good name for this dog." Jamie said. The sad appearance of this gentle giant did not blend with the strong name suggested.
Carly told the ladies to let the supervisor know she was taking the dog to the Vet and she was taking her right now. With that, she loaded up the dog into her car and off they went.
The trip to the Vet's office was a good trip and the dog listened while Carly talked to her and kept her calm. The Vet, upon hearing the story, agreed to treat her for free. No expenses incurred for this good deed in progress. The Vet determined that this Husky was about 7 yrs old, tests indicated she was heart worm free. But she did have cataracts in both eyes. They began filling her dehydrated body with fluids and fed her with a tube, pushing life sustaining liquids and nutrients into her emaciated body.
Carly returned to work and told the ladies that she had called her son. He had just recently lost his own pet, which was a Husky. He told his mom "Mom, I don't care whats wrong with her, I'll take her. She will have a home with me."
So, the lost gentle giant that was this wandering dog, stumbled into the right parking lot, on the right day and was surrounded by Angels. The Vet office continued the day's miracle by providing free treatment and care. In the end, the man who needed a dog, found a dog. And the dog who needed a home found all the love she will ever need. No more hunger, no more thirst. Just love.
Who ever said Angels don't run in packs never met these ladies, that Vet or this dog.
And that's what makes this day and this story worth sharing.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
The Brotherhood
I have always believed that we walk through the fires of life for several reasons. The first to teach us things about ourselves and others. The second, to be able to help others when they walk through the same fires. We cannot fully appreciate the pain and suffering of another person unless we too have felt it's sting and levels of agony. Whether it is healthy issues, financial difficulties or the loss of loved ones, we cannot empathize with someone else unless we have felt their despair. Sympathy is pointless, mere words designed to comfort both the other party and ourselves. Empathy, on the other hand, is knowledge beyond question. Empathetic words have value and they come from a place littered with a debris called experience. Trust me , the person suffering knows the difference.
A year and a few months ( I think that's right, I still dont have a firm grip on timelines) after Logan's suicide (as determined by law officials and medical examiners) I was functional again. My life had direction, I was moving forward and had more focus. I worked and cared for my family and personally, I think I did it well, all things considered. I had endured the second set of holidays without Logan and while he remained the ghost in the room at family gatherings, we did alright. The Christmas break from work was nice and much needed. I tend to stay home during that time, emerging for trips to the grocery store. Home is theraputic for me. It is my shelter from life's storms.
When I returned to work afterwards, I emailed a coworker, Michael, that worked at another campus. Cheerfully, I inquired about the holidays and asked if Santa had been good to him. His reply left me stunned. Michael explained to me that his baby brother, a contract worker in Iraq, had committed suicide during the holidays. I felt my stomach sink and things got a bit blurry.
It reminded me of the time shortly after Logan's death, only a year earlier, that I was helping a student in the office. She was visibly upset. I was always one of the first adults to see a child at school. I could see if they were having a good day or not. I could also see if there was a serious problem and when that happened, I would get them back to their counselor instead of letting them try to go to class with a burden they could not carry. On this day, I asked her if she was ok. She said "No, my best friend committed suicide last night". I remember trying to fill out her pass to class. But I couldn't see the words on the paper. My coworker was standing next to me, I looked at her and said "can you finish this for me please?". I instructed the girl to wait for me inside the office, that I would be right back. I got up, walked out of my office and into the back interior of the vault where I could be alone. I couldn't breathe. My mind was racing and I remember telling myself this isnt happening to me. This is not Logan.. This isnt me that had a friend commit suicide last night. This isnt me, this is her, this is her, this is her. For several minutes I stayed in there, in that vault and cried, mentally trying to seperate myself from this girl's situation. I then composed myself and breathed deeply. I wiped my tears, met the girl and took her back to her counselor.
When we are traumatized, we remain easily traumatized. It takes very little to send us back to that dark place, that place of chaos and pain. The good thing is that, with time, we dont stay there for weeks and months. The roller coaster still runs but we are out of the dips much faster and back on top where we can breathe.
Now here was Michael. His brother was gone. His devastation evident. His world had come crashing down, it was imploding and chaos had taken over. For several months we talked. I shared with him my loss and he told me that no one understood how he felt like I did. Sadly we both shared the same kind of horrible loss. We talked about how we had lost people before to illness and accident and how bad that was to endure. We also talked about being a suicide survivor and how much longer it took to find our way out of that darkness.
I did what I could to help Michael. But just like me, one traumatic experience was followed by another and instead of finding his way through it, he crumbled. He had to leave his job and for the most part disappeared.I would contact him and have brief conversations but he had retreated to a safe place to heal.
Today, Michael was on my mind. So I sent him a message to see how things were going. We began talking via phone messages and finally I got him to send me an email. I hope that he will let me do what I can to help him as we share the most horrendous of brotherhoods. We belong to the same awful club of suicide survivors. That elite group of people who never wanted to be there, never wanted to know the criteria for entering and never ever wanted a lifetime membership. But if we are to be good stewards of our fellow man, then we have to help each other out. We have to offer comfort when we can and a hand up to those that have stumbled.
I hope Michael will be receptive to my suggestions to put the focus on himself now. To eat foods that make him strong instead of weak. To take walks to exercise both his body and his mental demons. To make plans for his future and leave what was, in the past. His "what was" wont go anywhere, it just wont be able to trip him up quite so easily. I know I can only do so much but I certainly want to give him what I needed when I needed it most. Hes been on an island far too long. I'd like to try to be the ship he sees on the horizon. Even if he waives me to pass, I will have known that I tried. Thats all any of us can do.
I
A year and a few months ( I think that's right, I still dont have a firm grip on timelines) after Logan's suicide (as determined by law officials and medical examiners) I was functional again. My life had direction, I was moving forward and had more focus. I worked and cared for my family and personally, I think I did it well, all things considered. I had endured the second set of holidays without Logan and while he remained the ghost in the room at family gatherings, we did alright. The Christmas break from work was nice and much needed. I tend to stay home during that time, emerging for trips to the grocery store. Home is theraputic for me. It is my shelter from life's storms.
When I returned to work afterwards, I emailed a coworker, Michael, that worked at another campus. Cheerfully, I inquired about the holidays and asked if Santa had been good to him. His reply left me stunned. Michael explained to me that his baby brother, a contract worker in Iraq, had committed suicide during the holidays. I felt my stomach sink and things got a bit blurry.
It reminded me of the time shortly after Logan's death, only a year earlier, that I was helping a student in the office. She was visibly upset. I was always one of the first adults to see a child at school. I could see if they were having a good day or not. I could also see if there was a serious problem and when that happened, I would get them back to their counselor instead of letting them try to go to class with a burden they could not carry. On this day, I asked her if she was ok. She said "No, my best friend committed suicide last night". I remember trying to fill out her pass to class. But I couldn't see the words on the paper. My coworker was standing next to me, I looked at her and said "can you finish this for me please?". I instructed the girl to wait for me inside the office, that I would be right back. I got up, walked out of my office and into the back interior of the vault where I could be alone. I couldn't breathe. My mind was racing and I remember telling myself this isnt happening to me. This is not Logan.. This isnt me that had a friend commit suicide last night. This isnt me, this is her, this is her, this is her. For several minutes I stayed in there, in that vault and cried, mentally trying to seperate myself from this girl's situation. I then composed myself and breathed deeply. I wiped my tears, met the girl and took her back to her counselor.
When we are traumatized, we remain easily traumatized. It takes very little to send us back to that dark place, that place of chaos and pain. The good thing is that, with time, we dont stay there for weeks and months. The roller coaster still runs but we are out of the dips much faster and back on top where we can breathe.
Now here was Michael. His brother was gone. His devastation evident. His world had come crashing down, it was imploding and chaos had taken over. For several months we talked. I shared with him my loss and he told me that no one understood how he felt like I did. Sadly we both shared the same kind of horrible loss. We talked about how we had lost people before to illness and accident and how bad that was to endure. We also talked about being a suicide survivor and how much longer it took to find our way out of that darkness.
I did what I could to help Michael. But just like me, one traumatic experience was followed by another and instead of finding his way through it, he crumbled. He had to leave his job and for the most part disappeared.I would contact him and have brief conversations but he had retreated to a safe place to heal.
Today, Michael was on my mind. So I sent him a message to see how things were going. We began talking via phone messages and finally I got him to send me an email. I hope that he will let me do what I can to help him as we share the most horrendous of brotherhoods. We belong to the same awful club of suicide survivors. That elite group of people who never wanted to be there, never wanted to know the criteria for entering and never ever wanted a lifetime membership. But if we are to be good stewards of our fellow man, then we have to help each other out. We have to offer comfort when we can and a hand up to those that have stumbled.
I hope Michael will be receptive to my suggestions to put the focus on himself now. To eat foods that make him strong instead of weak. To take walks to exercise both his body and his mental demons. To make plans for his future and leave what was, in the past. His "what was" wont go anywhere, it just wont be able to trip him up quite so easily. I know I can only do so much but I certainly want to give him what I needed when I needed it most. Hes been on an island far too long. I'd like to try to be the ship he sees on the horizon. Even if he waives me to pass, I will have known that I tried. Thats all any of us can do.
I
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