Fences

There are fences around my house. Wooden ones to keep horses in the pasture and electric ones that fail at keeping dogs in the yard. There is also the pretty white fence running along two sides with a sign that says “Private Property No Trespassing” that was put up long before we moved in.

That was the fence Hurricane Sally tore down, leaving a clear path to our neighbor's house to share what we have. They gave us batteries and flashlights and offered their tractor to pile up the debris. They are on well water powered by electricity and today a hose will stretch from our our house across that path, so they can flush toilets and brush their teeth any time.

Fallen trees cover our driveway, blocking us in. Our neighbor behind us cut down parts of his fence, opening a route to his driveway so we can drive out.

Those torn down fences make it easier to survive and to help each other.

I have covered the aftermath of naturals disaster and listened to people's stories as we stood on a concrete slab, the only thing the tornado left of their home. Or as they carried everything they owned from their home to the growing trash pile by the curb after the flood came in high. Too much wind and rain can leave people homeless, hungry, overwhelmed and scared. That is when the worst of times brings out the best in people. They forget the fences of separation, even those invisible and internal, and give all they have.

This time it was my neighbors who pulled out their chainsaws to clear the roads as soon as the hurricane that was much worse than we had expected passed by. Another neighbor with a home generator is keeping our food in her refrigerator so we still have something to eat. She also shares her cold Dr. Peppers. Friends and family beyond the Gulf Coast are watching the news that I haven't seen and asking how to help. One drove from Jackson, Mississippi last night to deliver a generator and portable air conditioner because "a couple of weeks is a long time to go without power or cool air."

This time it is people I know who are posting updates that things are bad, but they are grateful to be alive. Each one said, "It could have been worse" or "We are taking care of each other."

Now I know what it feels like to thank God for every power crew in a white truck working from early in the morning to late in the night. To feel cared for by each person who checks in. To be grateful for ice and supplies delivered to my church from people outside our community who have to do something to help.

Thank you to everyone who is going beyond your own fences to help neighbors and strangers. The damage is bad, but you are making it better.