By 
“Do not forget to entertain strangers, because for her some, without knowing it, hosted angels.” Hebrews 13: 2
The lazy dog days of summer are officially over; sand has been vacuumed from van mats; new shoes, clothes, pens and notebooks were bought; and classes have resumed. Newsletter weeks have been planned; new products have been launched; the desktop and files have been removed and cleaned. I am back in the chair.
And then came the images: thousands of dehydrated, hungry and sleep-deprived hurricane victims, splashing in rotting waters with frightened babies on tired shoulders; cots, like dominoes, lined up in filthy, smelly stadiums; buses that spill diesel fuel to destinations hundreds of miles from homes that are no longer standing. Mothers crying out for lost children, husbands crying out for lost wives and grandmothers crying out for life itself.
Gone are my newly minted pearls of wisdom, along with wishes for one last trip to the beach and a weekend of self-indulgence.
My heart has been pierced by those images, and I’ve struggled with that nauseous kicking feeling in the stomach since Friday, when I finally sat still long enough to fully absorb the devastation of our Gulf Coast.
One could not be fully human if one were not moved by the images portrayed through our media. These television images were enlarged due to my own image from an hour earlier: Returning from our son’s chemotherapy clinic (where he is being treated for leukemia) and heading south on I-95 towards home, I saw thousands of cars and trucks. creeping out of the New York City metropolitan area, heading north toward some of New England’s wealthiest enclaves. Cape Cod, Nantucket, Martha’s Vineyard, and Watch Hill – they all called out to both visitors and vacation home owners. The interstate was packed with work-weary commuters looking for a last breather before the official start of fall. These gas-guzzling vehicles hardly moved; the road was full in all three lanes. Many would literally sit for hours, fuming in frustration at other drivers not going fast enough, as well as the dizzying drain on their engines idling. I hate to brag, but since the risk is so small, I will venture to say that most of those travelers were well-fed, well-hydrated, well-dressed, and well-off.
The contrast to the television footage of the next hour turned out to be a glaring disparity so painful that, as if by centrifugal force, I found myself thrown off my down-filled sofa and into my office chair, emailing the media. communication, asking for answers. to this rescue mission crisis. The image of cars and vans sitting in traffic on the way to weekend homes and second homes contradicted any sense of understanding of the images of the convoy of military tanks and commercial buses (wading through bacteria-infested water) en route to makeshift shelters. In hundreds of cities. miles away.
How could we afford to sit idly by, much less go on vacation, while our fellow citizens struggled for mere survival? Could we really lock up our weekend homes for the “off season” knowing that tens of thousands were homeless?
I have nothing against home ownership … and certainly nothing against second or third property either. After all, I am a bona fide capitalist. But the contrast between the desperate haves and the have-nots is brutally stark, and must be approached in the most practical, as well as creative, way imaginable.
Be sensitive
It almost goes without saying that donating to the Red Cross or through a religious or community organization of your choice is the surest way to help alleviate suffering.
Or buy a case of bottled water and bring it to a station to handle donations of goods and materials. Many stations are scheduled to be picked up by the military to drop off in temporary accommodation areas.
Be creative
Look at your material possessions in a new light: Are you holding on to things you know you will never use? Do you have multiple or bulk supplies of common, everyday items that should be used in this national emergency? Do you own a business or work in an industry whose products or services could easily be donated to those affected?
Be outrageous
Could you buy airline tickets for an entire affected family and fly them to your vacation home … and let them use it without paying rent during those months when it would otherwise be empty? Could you adopt a family and bring it into your own home until they regain their balance? Do you have a rental property that you could loan? Could you lend them your second car?
It is an almost outrageous plan. It would be inconvenient. Hospitality almost always is. It can be uncomfortable. Treating perfect strangers like family almost always feels like this. It would be disturbing. Deliberately going around the world is never the natural state.
But the refugees would emerge forever changed.
How would you do it.
One thing coping with childhood cancer has taught me is that life always brings unexpected turbulence. Just as he is sailing at a comfortable altitude, something, seemingly out of nowhere, hits him in the face. It is always an inconvenience. Always uncomfortable. Always disruptive.
Hurricane Katrina came with a few days’ warning. But its devastation took almost everyone by surprise. Unexpected turbulence. None of us are immune. Some of us have witnessed much more than others. And we have learned, in our struggle to regain altitude, that sitting idly by is not acceptable.
I hope your heart has been pierced in a similar way. Perhaps its huge holes demand your attention. And a jump to the outrageous.