Thursday, May 13, 2010

What We Need Now More Than Ever… Community

In the last two weeks, communities all over Tennessee have been rocked by a widespread, almost slow-motion disaster. Flood waters rising and falling have left their muddy trail, high water marks 10, 15, 20 feet up in the trees. As I drive by the hollowed-out shells of what were warm and inviting homes a mere mile from my own, I see the world from the perspective of the water. Its nature unstoppable, always seeking its own level, flowing and filling regardless of what stands in its way. People, cars, roads, houses, trees, even mountains yield to water. Like a giant game of rock, paper, scissors: whether a rushing flow or in standing feet, water always get the last slap.

Today the shelters continue to live up to their name, water is still being distributed, food brought to families without kitchens. Clothing drives, volunteer demolition teams, cleaning supplies collected, each community brings its resources together and shares them: time, compassion, labor, food, love. I’m enthused by the unity, by the single-minded mandate: help each other.

And I hope, as we so often do, that it lasts. That as the waters recede, compassion and generosity do not recede with it. That as the homes are rebuilt, we do not rebuild our divisions and our distrust. For apparently there are those who still cling to their resentment as if it were a life raft in swift water. Those who refuse to be shaken awake, even by Interstates made rivers, malls and hotels made lakes, and homes made piles of mud & timbers. When I read emails comparing our flood to Hurricane Katrina’s devastation, I shudder, hoping that it won’t actually take over 1800 lives lost for Tennesseans to fully understand why Katrina was far, far worse than our flood. Because if even this tragic flood that took 23 precious lives in Tennessee alone, over 30 in the region, that has put so many of us on equally desperate footing, can be used to march forward an agenda of fear and anger, then there truly is no bridge too far.

But, I have a deep faith in the power of transformation, and in the power of water. It’s not until something happens to wake us from our routines, when roads are cut off, when power is out, phone service spotty, or water is limited, that we see what we have truly lost: our connectedness to each other. We live in a great illusion that we are independent in our daily lives. Yet we don’t know what we’ve got until it’s gone. We are all connected, interdependent, and that is what makes us strong. Our society, our laws, our culture, our ways all feed us and clothe us and let us make our way. Our common humanity grants us our liberty. One by one, people will discover that fact. I know that the weeks and months to come will be life changing for so many. In the months following my closest brush with disaster, the tornado that skipped over my son and I as we huddled on a neighbor’s front porch, I watched how the world changed before my eyes: my priorities shifted, my sense of gratitude deepened, and my willingness to listen to others, to value my relationships near and far, expanded.

We are given a great opportunity to renew our spirits, to rekindle our sense of belonging, not in a narrow, self-interested way, but in a broad sense of community-mindedness. In the midst of the communal upheaval we have all shared, a friend of mine suffered a tragic personal loss. Just today he said: “Sometimes things happen to you at the time that may seem horrible, painful and unfair, but in reflection you realize that without overcoming those obstacles you would have never realized your potential, strength, will power or heart. And so life trudges on.”
We will all trudge on.