Hope Whispered

   I've revised this post half a dozen times.  It wasn't coming out the way I wanted to express things.  I have so much to tell, so many feelings behind it all, I wasn't quite sure where to start.  Finally, it came to me.

     There are many stories out there of the personal impact made by the people of Moore, OK in the wake of their tragedy.  Quiet voices, smiles that hide deeper pain, a child's silent understanding that life would no longer be the same.  Everywhere you went, you literally ran into this stealthy wall.  It would hit you when you least expected it.
      I was quite gung-ho out there, my first deployment with Team Rubicon.  A group of people who held in reverence this silence, without ever needing to name it.  You fell right into the "ranks" when you got there, and there was no time to look back-nor did you really wish to anyway.  Every morning began with the raising of the flag (colors) in which each and every person stood perfectly still and silent until they were at full mast.  Every evening, the day concluded with the lowering of colors, and the same honor held as the morning.  Most of these men and women learned this as habit because of their time in the military, but even I, just a firefighter, felt the reverence in that small silence.  We were all there because we believe in this nation, and in it's people.  That meant helping, serving, doing whatever we could for those same people.  That simple act of raising and lowering a flag reminded us each day why we were there.

      Out for the day on a work site, most of the time it was dirty, grimy, rather smelly, backbreaking work.  None of that seemed to phase any of us.  We all would just keep grinding away at the task to be done.  There would be times where I'd look up and suddenly realize just how much we got done, or my TL would come by and say it was quitting time and I wondered where the day had gone.  I've never worked so hard in my life and loved every second of it all.

     It was hard to wrap your mind around what you were seeing most of the time.  You'd stop to take a drink of water and look around, trying to see above or past the piles of rubble around you.  It became where the small things grabbed your attention.  A child's toy train, a picture sticking out of the broken bricks, a small pile of coins you knew was some one's change jar or piggy bank before.  You knew that you were standing in the middle of some one's life, and it was jarring to see it reduced to nothing but scraps.  These possessions that someone once cared for and loved were now nothing but part of that pile you had tried so hard to look beyond earlier.  It occurred to me how someone could breakdown and lose all hope, lose faith in living.  No matter what though, I never felt that.  Through the muck and mud, broken glass and twisted metal, something else pushed me forward.  I could see it in the other members of my team, and the 100 members of Team Rubicon who were there in total.  We each groggily got up in the morning with the flick of a light switch and threw on work clothes and boots, got everything we needed for the day ready to go without a complaint (OK, maybe a complaint about a lack of coffee, but not a real complaint).  We were all tired, bruised and sore, but not one of us complained.  We all felt it, the unspoken reason we were all there-
                      Hope.
      When Pandora opened the jar the Zeus had given her and husband Epimetheus, she released upon mankind all the horrors and strife of the world.  After everything had escaped and ravaged the world around them, one last thing remained in the bottom of the jar.  It whispered to her to let it out.  That last item was hope.  Hope was the only thing that could outlast and outdo any and all of the ills she had released.  Hope looks at death, destruction and devastation and says, "Let's get to work."  Next thing you know, that which was once a scene of tragedy and sadness now stands a testament to the will of something or someone who saw that they were not defined by what was left behind.

     Whether we knew it or not, every single one of us on Team Rubicon heard this whisper.  We may not be able to define when or where we heard it, but it called to us quietly, called us to act upon it.  This was hope whispering in our ears, knowing that it needed us to be its instruments in Oklahoma.  It's what drove us forward each day, it's what makes a lot of us want to come back.  Hope is pervasive- once it gets out, it infects everyone and everything around.  This is why it was in Pandora's Box.  Even Zeus knew that for every evil, there must be a positive balance.  Hope is that balance.  While it can't repair a roof, or remove debris, it can inspire people who can. 

     We all went there for a reason, whatever it may have been.  We left changed.  I can no longer look at the world, weary from my day-to-day ails.  It will all pass.  There is always a better day beyond.  Today may seem like the worst you've ever had, but then you think of those toys in the rubble and the pile of change, and you realize, there's a light in the darkness.  You were that light.  You have it within you, and that, my friends, is something that never ever goes out.  Hope touched you, and you bent with its will, and you came out the better for it all.  

      Hope is what binds mankind together when it faced its darkest times.  It's what bound a group of scurvy pirates together in Oklahoma.  We never questioned why or what the point was.  We didn't have to.

Hope whispered....