Quietly though… as you can see by the example below. I read this in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette and this and a group of other letters were culled from nola.com
William Rhodes wrote, “We had worked and paid our house notes; the property next door we bought as income property for our old age. Now, I’m 60, and because I had no insurance, I Have NOTHING to pass on to my children except the knowledge of “How to Unclog Sewer and Drains.” Oh, Lord Jesus Christ, will you please keep us from being homeless; or if it is Your Will, take me from this world, so at least my wife will have my $30,000 life insurance, and maybe they can use that as a down payment for a little home they can call their own. I feel so sad.”
It is stunning to think that there are roughly a million people displaced and destroyed, yet they’re already fading into the background of our minds. I am so glad this (and other excerpts) was in the paper this morning. To have nothing, in the sense that this man has nothing, is simply unfathomable on an emotional level. I feel sad. This guy’s devastated and from where I’m sitting, broken. But who am I to think he must feel worse than simply “sad.” I’m sitting in my kitchen, sipping coffee from my favorite mug while Beth and Jake play dinosaurs…there is nothing for me to do beyond giving money and for that I feel disgusting.