Author: Susan Minarik

What Keeps Us Alive

“Climbing up the mountain,” the man said, “you can count the number of water heaters that you see in the debris. That gives you an idea of how many people upstream have lost their houses.”

*              *              *

From behind the house a thundering sound crashes down the mountain. You run to the balcony to see an avalanche of mud and trees and doors and roofs and lumber roaring down the creek not 100’ below your house. Torrents of rain have transformed your yard into a lake, and it’s rising.

“Mommy! Mommy!” your 7-year-old screams, running to you and wrapping her arms around your legs. You see the neighbor’s truck from up the hill tumble by in the mud cascade.

The house is shaking as if it’s in an earthquake. You wrap your arms around your daughter and lead her to the fireplace, thinking maybe it will stand and support this part of the house.

“Stay here,” you tell her as the power fails. The house is dark and the only sound is the roar of turbulent mud washing away the world. You rush to get your cell phone and a blanket from the couch and snuggle next to your daughter, wrapping the blanket tight around both of you. You try to call 911 but there’s no signal.

*              *              *

I’ve watched dozens, maybe hundreds of videos in the wake of Hurricanes Helene and Milton, trying to get a clear picture of the extent of its impact and to learn how on earth people were coping with the unimaginable situation they faced.

Members of my own family were in Milton’s path. Thankfully, they are all okay and escaped irreparable damage. But I felt the sting of apprehension as the storm neared them, sending tornadoes across their city.

I’ve been heartened by the preparations and responses I’ve seen in Florida. While the destruction they face is impossible to assess yet and rebuilding with be a monumental effort, an organized response is in place.

The situation in western North Carolina is another story. The region is inland, not subject to hurricanes. The residents had no reason to expect what was about to befall them could ever happen.

The scene I described at the start was lived out by countless mountain families. And for many days, they were without help, stranded, with no power, no plumbing or running water, no cell phones, no internet, no radio, no transportation and a landscape torn to shreds and heaped with debris.

Some may still be waiting for rescue. Rivers now flow twenty feet from where they were before and are clogged with debris. Roads and bridges are washed out. Whole little towns have vanished.

The situation is different in North Carolina than it is in Florida. With no experience to draw from. the response is more haphazard and spontaneous. The locals have banded together and are working out what needs to be done and how they can do it. The obstacles are enormous.

To complicate matters, cold weather is setting in, and families have lost literally everything but the clothes on their backs. It’s been below freezing at night already.

Donations are pouring in. Local folks are organizing them, mostly setting up centers in churches, and they’re working on ways to get the supplies to those who so desperately need them.

On November 2 a large number of churches will be taking a second load of supplies up the mountains with a team of pack mules. The man describing the effort paints a clear and chilling overview of the situation and its challenges in his YouTube video, “Western NC update. OPERATION MOUNTAIN RELIEF” (He’s the man who made the statement about the water heaters in the debris.)

If you click “more” in the description below the video, he gives information about how you can donate and what is needed. Take the time to watch it. He plainly explains what’s real for the people there.

It’s not too late to organize a little collection effort of your own and get a donation into his hands. And it’s never too late to enclose both those who suffer and those who help in your prayers,

Congressman Chuck Edwards, Representative from North Carolina’s 11th District, also has a web page listing places that are accepting donations and listing what items are most needed. It lists the phones you can call to see what their current needs are and how to get contributions to them, however small.

Events are moving fast in our world. It’s easy to lose sight of events that happened two days ago, let alone a couple weeks before.

But sometimes events cry out for our continued attention. Give some of your attention to the people who need help, those in the North Carolina mountains and to those around you. After all, as James Crew’s poem “Neighbors” says, “Kindness is what keeps us alive.”

May you have a blessed week.

Warmly,
Susan

Image by Jack Drafahl from Pixabay

Gathering Twigs

I walk the hillside gathering twigs
that I will use as tinder for fires
on cold nights, an autumn custom
that I began a couple decades ago.
The air carries the fragrance
of fallen leaves and coming rain.
For one brief moment, the sun
breaks through the layers of cloud
and I turn to see it kiss the treetops
as they dance, tall and bright,
against the charcoal sky.
I add the moment to my twig bin
along with a fallen gold leaf.
Remind me, I say to it,
the next time that I touch you,
of this warm and shining day
when I saw the sun brushing
the mid-October leaves
and watched them shimmer
in its light.

Letting Go

You show us our greediness, autumn.
We walk through your perfect falling leaves,
through the exquisite textures and colors
of you, grasping the moment so tightly,
wanting it never to end, or at least to slow
so we can take in every detail. And yet
the dance itself is at the heart of the beauty.
And the song can only sing if
we let the music play.

Gifts Freely Given

This air, these cycling seasons,
this rocky island on which we stand,
these trees, every blade of grass, every drop of rain,
this brilliant sunshine, this tumultuous variety
of shape and color and form, was given to us all.
Not to an elite, however defined. Not conditioned
by anyone’s notion of worthiness. But freely,
to teach and bring comfort and joy.

Birds Crossing the Road at Twilight

It looks like a scene from another world,
and I suppose it is. Or a portrait perhaps
of another time, long ago.
And that, I suppose, depends
on how you measure time and whether
you even believe in it at all anymore,
what with things passing by at such a
breakneck speed these days. Nevertheless,
at early twilight on a day I call yesterday
I turned down the road just in time
to see a line of turkey hens,
or so I guessed them to be, blending
in with the early evening shadows
as they moseyed across the road,
and disappeared into the brush.

Cows in an Autumn Field

Beneath a cloud-heaped sky that dwarfs them,
the cattle graze, happy for their still-green pasture,
the cool air. They may be oblivious to time,
but like the autumn trees that edge their world,
something deep within them knows the seasons.
Perhaps vague memories of winter float
through their minds, long days in the dim light
of the barn, feeding on hay, soaking
in the warmth of each other’s bodies.
Perhaps they smell the coming snow.
Nevertheless, today the pasture is wide,
the grass still green, and they are content,
grazing beneath the wide big sky.

October Sky

Stand beneath the heavens,
beneath the vast canopy
spread above you to remind you
that, although you are not supreme,
you are valued enough to warrant rain,
adored enough to be given fragrant winds,
loved enough to be granted the sight
of this glorious, cloud-strewn sky.

Struttin’ Their Stuff

The way they lined the roadway
in the spotlight of the sun,
vines wrapped around them
like fine silken scarves,
they reminded me of ladies
from the 40’s, parading down
the sidewalk on a Sunday afternoon,
flaunting their fashions, showing off
their style.

The Countless Emerald Gifts

In the blink of an eye, it all could be gone.
And from the looks of things,
the possibility looms large.
But come what may, this scene,
strewn with its countless emerald gifts,
is imprinted on my soul and will sing
the One Song beyond the edge of time.

A Time to Weep

How can we keep our balance and our sanity when the world seems insane? 

I’ve been asking myself that question all week as I watched the news about the devastation wrought by Hurricane Helene.

Then, as I sat down to gather the thoughts I want to share with you, I learned that a second storm is heading for Florida and is predicted to reach hurricane level before reaching landfall mid week.

And that’s not the only news coming across the airwaves. I’m hearing of intense missile attacks on Israel as I write.

We live in perilous times.

In the face of all that we’re confronting, I want to share two pieces of practical advice that I hope will be of value to you.

Facing Emergencies

The first is about what to do when you’re personally confronting an emergency. I read it in a book on self-hypnosis I borrowed from the library when I was a kid.

“Memorize this,” the book said. “Repeat it over and over whenever you can. Then it will be there for you when you need it.”

I did what it said, and I can truly say that it probably saved my life more than once. It’s a little chant that goes like this:

Relax.

Think Fast.

Do What is Necessary.

Please commit those simple words to memory. And practice releasing tension from all your muscles as you do. See what it feels like to be relaxed and totally aware of your surroundings at the same time.

(As a bonus, I’ll add a bit of counsel from Fred Rogers. “Whenever you’re in trouble,” he said. “Always look for the helpers.” That’s one worth tucking in your pocket, too.)

Dealing with Catastrophe

The second offering I have for you is about how to get through life when the world seems to be collapsing all around us.

Back when the Twin Towers were destroyed in 2001, one of the pioneers in the field of positive psychology took a look at how her students had fared during the crisis.

She found that they fared well. They had learned that it was healthy to be honest with themselves about their feelings and they paid attention to their sorrow, and shock, and grief.

But they also payed attention to the acts of courage, and heroism, and kindness that they saw and gave emphasis to them in their recall of the events. 

They looked to their personal strengths and found ways to use them to help themselves and others deal with the trauma.

Resiliency is founded in paying attention to the needs of those around us and to giving comfort and help where we can.  

The key is to lean into the wind of misfortune and let it awaken us to our shared humanity, to offer assistance where we can, to lend our strength to the weak, and to dare to believe in our strength and resilience. Because they’re real, you know. Humans find ways to rise to the challenges before them.

I stumbled on a quote this week that said, “It is what it is . . . but it will become what you make of it.”

Whatever situation you’re facing, whether it’s painful empathy for the misfortunes of others or for misfortune of your own, you can use the situation to find and express the highest and best in yourself. And remember, the highest and best is always rooted in love—for yourself, for your fellow beings, for the gift of life itself in all its pain and all its glory.

May you be safe and well.

From my heart,
Susan

Image by Edyta Stawiarska from Pixabay