Greetings from the rebuilding front. I'm on-line in my trailer! It's been ages since my last check-in with friends and family. Please feel free to forward this on to friends I may have missed.

Inspiring work is happening on the Gulf Coast, not to mention at my house.

As y'all know, my brother's oldest son, Eric came to join me in late September. It was still very early in the disaster. I was staying in a spare bedroom of a couple from church with whom I'd only had a nodding acquaintance prior to the storm. Pete and Jane are now good friends.

When Eric arrived, Jane put an air mattress in their living room and a sheet over the door so Eric could have some privacy. They were gracious and loving. However, when on one of my many visits to the FEMA office, I was offered a stateroom on a cruise ship as temporary housing, I jumped at the opportunity. Sign us up!

There was a catch....the Carnival cruise ship was docked in Mobile, Alabama, 60 miles away. A bridge on Interstate 10 had been damaged by the storm so the road was reduced to one lane in each direction. That 60 miles could take 1.5 - 2 hours. For the first few days it was kind of fun. It felt GREAT to have my own space - even if I did have to share it with my 19-yr-old nephew. I sent Eric up on deck to play chess while I had a chance to spread out my paperwork and look ahead.

When I didn't have something for Eric to help me with, he joined volunteer work crews hauling debris, cutting trees and ripping out sheetrock in 95 degree weather. Pete, my gracious host, is Clerk of Session at Westminster Presbyterian Church where I am the new Youth Director. No surprise to any of you, I quickly became involved in directing and managing the many volunteer work crews that arrived every day to help wherever they were needed.

That was the problem. Where specifically are they needed? What's the task? tree on house; tree in yard; sheetrock removal; debris removal; and on and on. What supplies will they need? How will they get there? What will they eat for dinner? Before you know it, I help create forms and procedures to manage the chaos.

The Presbyterian Disaster Assistance motto is "Out of Chaos, Hope." Over 1,000 volunteers from all over the country have come through and stayed at our church. After several weeks down here, Eric said, "You're seeing the best of humanity down here."

With volunteer help I had managed to remove almost everything from my house prior to Eric's arrival. It was all so overwhelming. At first, I was horrified. I asked my new best friends, volunteers from Alabama, to just take it all out. Make it go away. With wheelbarrows and pitchforks, they/we did. At least we got it out of the house. Then, I had to look at the piles of stuff in front of the house everyday."Can I save this Caphalon frying pan? Maybe I can scrub the corrosion off, It's such a nice pan. I only used it once. Oh, that blue silk dress, I hate to throw it away."

The first 10 days I was home was eerie. There was no "normal," except it became normal for me to get up, go to the church and meet with all youth who could come. School wasn't in session until early October. Until then, the kids could hang out at the church with me and do whatever came up - from making and serving lunch for volunteers, to ping-pong and air hockey. A youth group from Alabama came over to help clean yards, and we went to visit them for fellowship the following week. It felt good to get out of the disaster zone. Another youth leader and I took a dozen kids 70 miles north to a mall just to shop and hang out.

Half the kids in the youth group lost almost everything they owned. One even swam for safety with her parents and dog during the storm. They all talk about the sound of the wind; the sideways rain; the water rising; The stories are chilling. So many people stayed. "I rode out Camille in this house." Hurricane Camille is responsible for more death and trauma in 2005 than she was in 1969.

I was in shock, too. I "practiced avoidance," as my father would say. It was easier to manage work crews than to deal with my own house or even consider the enormity of what's happened/is happening in my life.

Church leaders insisted on sending work crews on the first two days I was home. After that I did little for myself, at first. It was enough just to deal with a day. Roads were clogged. Cell phone service was spotty, at best. The muck, the smell, the heat, oh my. It assaulted the five senses. FEMA and insurance adjusters; arranging to have the Army Corps of Engineers put a "blue roof" on my house, and what/where are we going to eat.

For the first month or more I ate only what was served to me at a church or pantry, a Red Cross or Salvation Army truck or by a friend. I even ate a hot dog, but I drew the line at MRE's (Meals Ready to Eat - military rations).You all know how picky I am about food, but there really was no choice.

Until the end of September, we had running water, but it was not safe to drink. I still don't drink the water, but at least I feel more comfortable about taking a shower. We had no choice there, either. It was often over 90 degrees and over 90% humidity. At the end of the day, I would just close my eyes and mouth and not think about tiny microbes in my ears.

Thankfully, two women from that same Alabama church came back a few weeks after the first crew to help me sort through keep vs. save, and they wouldn't allow me a "maybe" pile. Tough love. And,yes, that fry pan was beyond hope. The water that had washed through the house was sea water, polluted by a sewage treatment plant and a chemical plant both that had failed and overflowed during the storm.

Late September and early October was spent staying with Pete and Jane part of the week and on the cruise ship part of the week. Six weeks of staying with new friends and "commuting" to Mobile was getting old. FEMA kept promising that the ship would be moved 30 miles closer, and that I was in line to get a trailer to my house. Promises. Promises.

In early October, a former Pastor's son's church donated a small travel trailer to Westminster Presbyterian Church. Pete, my host was reluctant to offer it to me for fear I might think he was kicking my out! It was too small for a family, and it sat for a week or more, before I asked for it. By the third week of October, I had a trailer on my property, and I told FEMA to give my trailer to someone else who needed it more.

A volunteer crew from Los Angeles and another one from Tennessee came and ripped out sheetrock and the rest of the lower kitchen cabinets. Friends of Eric's from Hands-On-USA came to pull all the nails and screws out of the beams and clean the house and driveway. The van was towed away by the insurance company, and we cleaned the dead animal from the Jeep and towed it from the driveway. I wish I had a pink flamingo. I hung a rubber chicken and a large flower on the front of the trailer, and I was home.

I had an electrician come and change out the boxes and give me power hook-up in my driveway. We jury rigged a sewer piping into my city sewer line, and I'm golden! I got my first insurance check around the same time so things began to move along. I arranged for new air conditioning/heating system installation, and made plans to fix the roof.

I also made plans to get out of town for my wedding anniversary and the anniversary of Matt's death. Jane, the mother of 3-yr-old Jeremy in Atlanta, pointed out that I must make plans and not allow the anniversaries to sneak up on me.

After much thought, I called Jim Ellis, aka Jim the Baptist, a retired Navy Chaplain and a good friend of Matt's. He lives in San Diego with his wife and daughters. They welcomed me to spend the 23rd and 24th of October with them. The following weekend, Halloween, my Peak Experience Production buddies were producing a show in Las Vegas. What better way to spend the anniversary of our engagement (which happened in Vegas 2003), but dancing my toes off?

Just to top it all off, I arranged to spend two nights at Miracle Hot Springs Spa in Desert Hot Springs, CA. Desert Hot Springs is mid way between San Diego and Vegas. And now, about that car. I flew in and out of Vegas and needed a car for the round trip drive. The Hertz agent tried to give me Taurus, but I pleaded that I needed something more fun for this drive. When I went to the lot, I checked the space number twice. I got a 2-seater Red Mazda Miata convertible! I gbought a blue straw sun hat at a Thrift Store and hit the road!

I cried. I prayed. I laughed. I hugged friends. I drove in my convertible. I heard stories about Matt. I talked to friends and family. I sang off key to the radio. I had a seaweed wrap, a sea salt scrub, a massage, a facial, and a manicure and pedicure. I cried. I laughed. I prayed some more. I danced. I laughed. I hugged more friends. I saw Hoover Dam. A vacation for the spirit, body and soul.

Meanwhile, back in Mississippi, about that roof. An enthusiastic, retired, commercial contractor from Lancaster, PA, Paul Risk was in town with four experience contractors who worked for his company. They were here to help rebuild, but the area wasn't quite ready for rebuilding, yet. They helped a lot and made plans for a building blitz in the new year. So here are men who know how to build a roof with no skilled work available, and me needing a roof.

Since I have insurance, and clearly the mission is to help those who don't, I suggested that I buy the shingles for my roof and volunteers put them on. In return, I paid 2X the cost of shingles into a fund for two others to get a roof. There were even enough of my shingles left over to patch the roof of a church in Long Beach.

The contractors used Eric and several University of TN volunteers to strip the shingles and replace the roof on my house while I was driving around out west. I came home to a house with a roof and heating/ac. Next, I arranged for a company to come in and clean and spray the house for any remaining mold. By early November, it was down to a cement slab, exterior walls, a roof and studs. We were ready to begin the rebuilding.

My sister in Boston, "Boots," has a friend, Larry, who is a contractor. Larry spends winter months in Florida, and she told him he had to come help me. We spoke on the phone over the weeks after the storm, and I was getting anxious for him to get here. On November 10th, Larry and his 20-year-old son Andrew arrived, as did my niece, Dominique's husband, Victor.

It's quite a crew. Jim and Hedy, my next door neighbors have an old Airstream trailer that they let Larry and Andrew use since they got their FEMA trailer. Eric and Victor camp together in a 10-man tent set up under the carport. I also have a 5-man tent set up for storage. The four of them worked hard for two weeks straight.

Brother Michael and my good friend Wendy Corn came down to join us all for Thanksgiving. There were eight of us at the table, the seven in my camp and my neighbor Chris from across the street. They even worked a half a day on Thanksgiving. We ate at the church with 100 members of the congregation being served by volunteers from Pennsylvania and Oregon.

Friday morning, after feeding seven for breakfast out of a small trailer, Wendy suggests we plan our day. I laugh. She's new down here. She makes a list, and I go to the neighbor's for a minute before we leave. I return to hear Michael shouting, "Flea!" While putting in sheetrock, a water pipe was nicked, and we have a geyser in the house.

I run to the pile where Larry and Andrew are already digging. The water shut-off valve is under a 10' X 10' X 10' pile of debris (of course). Eric and Victor are inside playing "Little Dutch Boy and the Dike." Wendy goes in to check on them, and she and a 17-year-old friend, Rachel take over holding back the tide. Eric brings gloves and masks. I switch to water maintenance when Rachel has to leave.

An hour and a half later, the water was shut off, and it was time for lunch. After feeding the masses, Wendy and I take off to work on the list of errands. We get down the road and realize, we have a flat tire! So much for planning your day.

Michael went home that Friday, and Larry took off for Florida on Saturday. Before Larry left, we hired two men from Starkville, MS to tape, plaster and finish the drywall that Larry and the crew had hung. Listening to Butch and Hollie with their Mississippi drawl and Larry with his Boston accent have a conversation was like an old classic movie.

Sunday was Andrew's 20th birthday, and they all wanted to go to Bourbon Street in New Orleans. Sunday is a busy day for me with church activities, but I relented, and Sunday evening, all five of us piled into the Saturn and took off.

Walking down the street with souvenir drinks in our hands, Andrew with his souvenir Red Sox Mardi Gras beads, Wendy and I felt like we were taking "the kids" to DisneyWorld. Bourbon Street looks much the same as ever, except fewer people. There is evidence of a 1' water line in many places. It's almost a parody of itself, but three young guys had a great time. Wendy and I had fun to a point, then it was time to go. It took a while. We rounded them up and took the long drive home.

Monday was a rest and regroup day. Errands, lists. Wendy took the crew though some Yoga stretches on the front lawn. You can imagine Butch's expression when he came outside and said, "Whatch y'all doin'?"

My neighbor Chris joins us for breakfast or dinner sometimes, and Jim and Hedy next door come sit around our campfire. The cast keeps developing. On December 3rd, Joe, a friend from Washington State flew in to add his handyman/plumber skills to the mix, and on Monday, Brian, a professional painter friend from NY flew in. Add Jim and Megan, Eric's friends from Hands-On-USA who are now camping here, and the camp is nine people.

I moved everyone inside once the night time temperatures hit 30 degrees. It's actually becoming quite nice in there. We're too many to fit in the trailer for meals now, and it's way to cold, so we eat at card tables in the living room beside the skill saw. I have a kitchen sink hooked up, and we're making plans to get a stove tomorrow. My lower kitchen cabinets won't be in until late December/early January, but the kitchen is becoming semi-functional. At least now, I can put someone on kitchen duty and they're not in my small trailer space.

I've gotten my final check from FEMA, and an installment on my flood insurance payment from the mortgage company. I'm light-years ahead of my neighbors. Some folks are still waiting to see an adjuster and/or to get their settlement check. Two neighbors did not have flood insurance. Others are appealing their settlement. New flood zoning maps are being debated in City Hall. Most people are paralyzed by events, circumstance and emotions.

I'm grateful that, once again, Matt was looking out for me and had full insurance. So much has happened in the last two years. Who knows what will be going on for me when they finally decide on new maps. In the meantime, I have the money and the help to rebuild, so I am.

Brian painted the Master bedroom today! I'll be picking flooring by next week. The house is functional. I can move in when I return after the holidays. I'll be adding sliding doors off the "Florida Room" where the windows broke, and we're putting in a patio out back, and there's a new drainage system being put in, and the replacement windows aren't coming until mid-January, but... wow... progress is visible... hope is there.

At the same time, some days my sense of humor wears thin. I'm tired. I'm overwhelmed with things to remember and do. I hate paperwork. I crave my own space. I'm glad Megan has joined the clan and that Chris and Hedy come around. The testosterone level here is pretty high.

The guys took down my back deck and dug up a tree in preparation for the patio. It left a moat in the backyard. They have built a bridge across the moat to the firepit on the other side. My wooden pig magazine rack was rescued from the debris pile and placed on an island in the moat. The bridge is lighted with white rope lights. They go foraging for firewood and burn blazing fires.

Brian leaves next Wednesday, December 14th, and the rest of us take off on the 19th. Larry, Andrew and Jim and Megan will be back between Christmas and New Year's to continue moving forward. Eric and I will return on January 4th after a trip to NY to see Mom, family and friends for Christmas and on to San Francisco for New Year's with Peak Experience Productions and my rock 'n roll family.

Before I leave for the holidays, I am assisting Presbyterian Disaster Assistance, and that enthusiastic, retired, Pennsylvanian commercial contractor, along with the Presbytery of East Tennessee and University of Tennessee students and others bring their talents together in a Christmas Blitz. Together, they will put roofs on 35 homes in Biloxi, 15 homes in Long Beach and 10 homes in Bay St. Louis between December 28th and January 2nd. And, no, you don't have to be a Presbyterian to get a roof. You don't even have to be a christian.

God's grace is amazing. This past year, I've been asking God, "Why Mississippi? Why was I brought here for Matt to die?" And here I am. Uniquely qualified to fill an organization leadership need, a fund-raising need and a publicity need. In case I hadn't fully gotten the lesson before, I am certain that God is in charge.

The crew helping me rebuild, the love and prayers of all of you, the bold, determined spirit of these Southerners all inspire me. I reflect the love and hope, ideas and energy that others give out to pass on the hope and faith. The storm surge that came ashore on August 29th was unbelievable. The love surge that has followed is even more overwhelming.

Remember, nothing great was ever achieved by being safe, so BE BOLD!

Bless you all in this season of hope and joy,

Love,
Martha-Lee

"If you have hope this will make you cheerful. Do not give up if trials come, and keep on praying."
Romans 12:1-2