

Fall is in the air again and with the arrival of September comes the annual
anniversary of the most important time in my life, the three months I spent on the Gulf Coast after Hurricane Katrina struck on August 29
th, 2005. I'm reminded of it constantly. Weather Channel shows, documentaries, and stories in print constantly retell those fateful hours. I usually just watch and smile to myself, knowing that those around me could never understand the impact that storm had on my life if I were to mention it. Because for me, everything reminds me of Katrina. There are too many stories to share the meaning of so many simple memories, but any late fall evening, high school football game, cross, smell of gasoline or song in my "Katrina"
play list brings me back to southern Mississippi or eastern Louisiana.
Katrina woke me up. For all intents and purposes I was born on September 11th, 2005, the day I arrived in Mississippi. The days that followed challenged me and broadened my life in ways I never imagined possible as I grew to understand suffering, service, and the true joy of following Christ in the face of adversity. There is not a day that goes by that i don't think of someone I worked with or for on the gulf coast; where they are now, how they're doing, and how they themselves have recovered. I have lost track of most, and like all periods of life this is probably inevitable and perhaps for the best. But my heart will forever find it roots in the downed trees of Mississippi and the flooded remains of New Orleans.
I have traveled back to the area several times over these past four years. Its good to see the progress and travel the roads again, but like all experiences, its never the same. Everyone has periods of life that are simply magical, and while I hate that this period for me came at the cost of much suffering, it was a once in a lifetime mix of trial, triumph, and growth in the presence of the most influential people I have ever met. I'll never be able to recapture that, but the effects of that period will reverberate through me forever.
I posted the above pictures intentionally. They are not pictures of destruction, but of endurance. That cross stood beside the remains of towering buildings brought to their knees by a thirty foot storm surge, and yet remained unscathed. That family stood beside the remains of their flooded home, having lost everything, but filled with joy. Hope in the cross, and you will never be shaken.
If you're reading this and you happen to be one of those special people who I encountered on the gulf who radically altered the course of my existence for the better, I thank you. I'll be thinking about you...