Wednesday, August 29, 2007


December 10, 2004, was the first time I set foot in the state of Louisiana. K and I had spent a series of months dating in fits and starts, mostly with disasterous results, but had come to a place where we were going to have to either saddle up and ride or hang up our spurs. At just about the time we were coming to the place where we each get over ourselves and say, “O.k., I like you. Let’s call this dating, and see where it goes,” K left for Louisiana for a two-week time out.

She drove by herself, house-sat, worked, and held a workshop across those weeks. After we had spent nearly the entire car ride from Kansas to Louisiana on the phone together, we each independently had the idea that she shouldn’t have to drive home alone.

I flew down after work on a Friday evening.

On Sunday afternoon, the friends she was house-sitting for arrived home from their cruise. I was inspected, interrogated and inquisitioned. And amazingly, just as I was falling in love with K, I fell in love with these friends of hers, their wonderful home and family, their friends, and their “place,” being Southern Louisiana.

Two years ago yesterday, we had our routine Sunday morning phone call with these friends. We were admonished that a big storm was coming, and we were not to call. We would be called after the “all clear.” As the next day unfolded, we watched in horror as Katrina unleashed her fury against the Southern Louisiana coast. After it had subsided, we waited for the call.

On Tuesday, the levees breached and the rain continued. The Weather Channel had their correspondent reporting from Covington, a community only a stone’s throw from our friends. The order of the day was devastation and destruction. We waited for the call.

Before we finally got the call (there is some disagreement whether the call came on Wednesday or Thursday), I had violated the commandment of our Southern Belle and began calling, but of course the phone lines were all down, as was the electricity and the roads. When they called, they were able to report that they all were fine. Their house had sustained some significant damage and their property was a wasteland of trees and debris. All of the people and the animals who had gone inland to our friends’ magical place to seek refuge had survived and returned to their homes to survey the damage and begin putting the pieces back together.

When we went down a month later, the roads were mostly clear on the North Shore. Gas and groceries were still in short supply. Our friends still did not have electricity. It was several weeks after we left from this trip that they finally had their electricity restored.

So what do you do two years after a loving God puts his arms around you and the rescuees you have taken in to hold you safe through the storm? Well, if you are two amazing women in South Louisiana, you open your loving arms and rescue again.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Do I have to admit I teared up again? I love this story - all of it! You flying down, new love, southern belle interrogations - and dogs finding love! Best seller Misfits! Ev:)