| The Soul of a City |
 |
| Written on September 1, 2005 Today I was thinking of a book I once read about my hometown, the city of New Orleans. The setting was the mid-1800's, in the summer months, when the "fevers" beset the city and took the lives of so many of its citizens. The name of the book escapes me. In fact, I actually remember very little about it, except one quote, which has come to mind now and then ever since. One of the principle characters was hosting a party in the midst of a Yellow Fever epidemic. Those who could, had left the city for cooler and healthier climates, most of those who stayed, for business reasons or out of necessity of one kind or another, took what meager precautions they could to protect themselves, chief of which was as little contact with other citizens as possible. A friend questioned the host's judgment in partying, while all around him death and decay loomed. "But, mon ami," the host replied, "is that not the time when a party is most essential?" I mention this not to emphasize the city's legendary capacity to party, but to note her citizens' ironic sense of optimism and unrivaled zest for life. Her citizens are the grand old lady's biggest treasure. However, very few citizens remain in their city today. I've seen New Orleans referred to as a 'ghost town,' its people spread across the country in huddled groups of dozens or hundreds or thousands. Yet, despite all outward signs to the contrary, it's difficult for me to believe that her spirit has departed, as well. New Orleans has survived wars, fires, fevers and floods. And, seemingly, the more tragedy the city has absorbed, the more determined its citizens have been to rise from the ashes.....the muddy waters.....the fevered sickbeds.....to re-group, re-build and re-consecrate themselves to the celebration of life. And, somehow, the unimaginable horrors, the overwhelming challenges and the mind-numbing sadness of this catastrophic storm not withstanding, I want to believe.....I need to believe.....that the soul of the city will survive. That it will celebrate life once again. Perhaps, not in the same way, but with the same zest and optimism. |
| Whisper a prayer for my hometown today, for her scattered and bewildered people---people who have lost so much, for her beleaguered and exhausted city officials, her helpless and abandoned animals, her historic neighborhoods and familiar landmarks. Pray hard. Pray as if the soul of a city depended on it. Nancy Brister |
 |
 |
 |
 |
| Recompense He will all loss replace, With added grace, Lay in the empty hand some gift; No soul is left to drift Unblessed upon time's sea. The God who fills immensity Himself will give, And make it joy to live... Though He may take All else away for love's own sake. Though idols break And crumble into dust, Though lips are mute in woe, we trust The infinite, in love, to fill The rifted heart... Complete His perfect will. -- Author Unknown |
|
|
|
 |
| Morning Glory For New Orleans after Katrina Left on the rubble of the compost, bloomed the perfect blue flower happy in the day, though tossed on a dimmer bower than the garden trellis. The careless gardener. He'd dropped it there to wither with the weeds he meant to cull instead, And, probably with regret, thought it dead. |
| With grateful appreciation to Catherine Wilson, who very kindly shared a beautiful poem she wrote not long after Hurricane Katrina. She said: "Just days after Katrina devastated that wonderful city, I was walking in the local city gardens.....and found a morning glory vine that had been thrown with the rest of summer's detritus onto a large compost heap. It bloomed there amid the carnage. I wrote the attached poem dedicated to the city that will most assuredly bloom again." __________________ |
|