Ashamed of myself......

I didn't go through Katrina. I was affected by Katrina in many ways, butI didn't go through the horrors those in New Orleans, along the Mississippi gulf coast, or in Hattiesburg, MS (where my daughter and her roommates are still recoering from the storm's effects). No, I was blessed to be left with my life pretty much in tact in a place where I could offer direct help. I provided a place of shelter to son #3,and A and her roommates. I tried to find out what those in my city who had been displaced by the storm needed. Sometimes the needs were for things I wouldn't have thought of -- new underwear, socks, the correct type of hair products, deoderant, mouth wash, diapers, sanitary products. The needs were basic and the needs were immediate. Once my children were somewhat settled back into their lives, I tried give my timee tutoring, reading to children....which never really worked out well because things were still in such turmoil.

The point is......even though I wasn't dircetly affected with loss, I was in daily contact with those whose lives had been impacted (at the least), and devistated (at the worse). I saw the tears of pain and despair every day and night. That's why I'm astounded at how I can lose sight of what I saw and felt. How I can find myself agreeing (silently or verbally) when I hear or read comments like: why don't those people find a job? why don't those people realize they're not going back to New Orleans and just move on? why don't those people enroll their kids in school? why are those people walking the streets and highways all around BR -- we don't do that here. why are those kids starting fights in our middle and high schools? why don't those people just get with the program and start looking and acting like us?

Things like the above have been said from the beginning, and, back then, I had no patience for that type thinking. I became furious quickly. I still, normally, become aggravated at comments like those. But something I heard today made me realize how lax I've been in guarding my thoughts. And it startled the hell out of me how quickly we can lose touch with the truth. How quickly we can start distancing ourselves from good, if bringing about good is becoming hard, tiring, inconvenient.

Here's what I heard this morning on talk radio. I can't remember exactly what the topic was, but a couple of the callers were putting blame on 'those New Orleans people who have moved here'. At the time of the comments I don't even remember being conscious that I was agreeing -- or, at least that I wasn't disagreeing. Untill.... Untill a woman with the gentlest, kindest, saddest voice called in. She didn't rant and rave. She only said that she was from New Orleans East, living in Baton Rouge now, and that it hurt her heart to hear people talk about those people from New Orleans. It hurt her heart.

I wish I could have hugged her and told her how it hurt my heart to realize I had allowed myself to become one of those people who would agree with talk like that. It hurt my heart.

I vowed to keep a closer rein on my thoughts, and on what's good, and what's right.