New Orleans MT-3

I don't know which is worse; having the hurricane destroy all your things or having the flooding partially damage them? On one hand, you lose everything but on the other, you have to painfully go through and sort it all out. On the second day, we worked in Gentilly at the house of a lady named Geraldine who hadn't been in her home since she left 5 or 6 months ago. Before we went inside, we all had to wear masks due to the mold and mildew everywhere; there was still water in some of her stuff. As we were clearing out her things and practically gutting the house, we threw out all the rubbish onto the sidewalk near the street. You can imagine how the pile got bigger and bigger as time went by. It was sometime in the afternoon when I was walking towards the porch that I saw Geraldine standing there with a look of anguish and brokenness that I'll never forget; what she said next broke my heart. I don't recall her exact words but it was something to the effect of,"All these things in my life, in my home are now out there on the street." Such a sentiment may lose its impact in the here and now even as I'm retelling it but there, right next to her, I didn't know what to say or do...no words came to mind and so I just stood beside her, praying that God would comfort her right then and there. Such heartfelt words revealed a sadness that took me off-guard, reminding me that these weren't just "things" in and of themselves but, added up, comprised her lifelong memories of events and times shared; that this wasn't just a wooden table but a place where she's had meals with friends and family, that we weren't just clearing out any regular room in any ordinary building but that we were working in a private place in her home where she rested and slept. I could see the despair in her eyes as they wavered from object to object in the pile. As odd as it may sound, I don't think I was emotionally prepared to encounter such sorrow...Geraldine's pain-filled words floored me, humbling me completely.