I love my house. There. I’ve said it. I love the yard. I love the old worn out fence. I love the flooring and the drafty windows. The neighborhood is peaceful and the neighbors are pleasant. The kids have many friends. It is a wonderful place to live.
Sure, the trim needs paint. Of course, the windows need replaced. Yes, the furnace is original to the 25 year old house. But this place is ours. Okay, about 20% of the place is ours. The other 80% belongs to the bank. But the bank is kind enough to let us live here and for that, I am very thankful.
And so, the events of this past week have caused me to wonder how people will live in the coming months and years. What will they do without their homes, schools, churches, banks, post offices, grocery and hardware stores? The return to normal appears very far away. I can’t imagine the pain and burden each person must be carrying in the thought of the future and the difficult task ahead.
That said, I have decided to no longer offer commentary about the slow relief efforts or the violence that has occured in the midst of the chaos. No critisism about those who didn’t leave and found themselves in harms way. Only compassion for those left homeless. Only concern for those who lost family and friends. Only care for those who must rebuild their lives, their homes, and every corner of their world.