Richard Mattern This photo was taken a couple years ago, near Bowman's Beach in Sanibel. It depicts an elderly lady being helped by a much younger lady, walking along the shoreline. I wondered if the older lady was thinking of many years ago, in her youth, when she was able to run and frolic on the beach. The photo is a reminder that youth and age go hand in hand, and that time passed quickly.
Hope Rising
Hope Rising Artwork & Presentations
From March 8 2023 event
On March 8, 2023 St. Michael's hosted Hope Rising, an evening of post-Ian artistic expression. It was held at the Sanibel Rec Center and hundreds of people attended and were uplifted and filled with hope. We wanted to be able to share the beautiful pieces of art, poems, short stories and musical selections and have been given permission by several participants to do so. We hope you enjoy an encore of Hope Rising.
3 Minute video of hope rising in nature:
Video of Live Presentations at Hope Rising:
The number is the time each presentation appears in the video:
0:00 Prelude- Erik Entwistle Nuvole Bianchi (White Clouds) by Ludovico Einaudi
5:02 Doreen Bolhuis -Short Story
9:11 Natalie Guerra -Poem "The 12 Days of Ian"
11:52 Randall Saunders -Poem "Islands, Animals & Light" (Ann Marie Bouche – reader)
14:05 Sanibel School Seahorse Chorale -3 musical selections
"We Will, Chatter With The Angels & When I Close My Eyes"
26:23 Olivia Harre -Short Story
30:23 Trio Maureen Vel, Anne-Marie Bouché, Doreen Bolhuis “You Raise Me Up”
36:12 Len Edgerley -Poem "Pickleball Among the Ruins"
39:06 Brenda DeCapua -Short Story (Maureen Vel – reader)
46:18 Rich Mattern, Erik Entwistle -piano duet “Sheep May Safely Graze”
51:38 Jim Weyant 3 Poems - "A Last Lingering Tear," "Sanibel Strong," & "Hope"
(Anne-Marie Bouché – reader)
54:52 Erik Entwistle -Piano solo "Hearts Overflowing"
58:54 Maureen Vel -Short Story
1:06:56 Cathy Lanier- 2 Short Stories
1:14:39 Rich Mattern -Piano solo "The Lord Bless You and Keep You"
(unfortunately the video ended before the final presentation and postlude- but they are included below in written form) Jim Brown Sr. -2 Poems "Sanibel" & "After the Storm" (Maureen Vel – reader)
Postlude- Erik Entwistle Nuvole Bianchi (White Clouds) by Ludovico Einaudi
When we encounter things that are beyond our mind's ability to grasp, we turn to artists to help us make sense of our lives and our world. Through paint, sculpture, word, song, dance and so many other forms, artists can capture what's going on around and inside of us and help to bring healing and hope, strength and inspiration. Artists capture life experiences like grief, loss, kindness and love and express them in ways that make them tangible and real. We are grateful to the many artists who are sharing their work. We pray that their unique and varied expressions awaken hope in the midst of the devastation we have experienced on our beautiful barrier islands. Hope is rising indeed.
Rev. Bill Van Oss, Rector of St. Michael's
Selected artwork from the students of The Sanibel School - special thanks to art teacher Erica Sharp for her time and effort helping the students express their experiences of hope rising through beautiful works of art.
Lighthouse by Robert Conley
Collage by Robert Conley
Robert Conley
Robert is an artist that has been legally blind for 20 years but continues to create works of art. His inspiration for the sunset Lighthouse painting was a photograph taken a couple years ago. The collage made from some debris that came from his home when it was severely damaged. recjmc@gmail.com
Poems by Jim Brown Sr.
I was inspired to write these poems after seeing and reading about the devastation of Ian, the strength and resilience of residents, and sentiments expressed by visitors. My own memories of visiting Sanibel in my youth were rekindled, and I wanted to reflect the experiences, emotions, and hopes of those who are community residents, and the extended family of those who love Sanibel.
Sanibel
Life is coming back to our Sanibel,
Soon our island will, again, be well.
The palms will grow and flourish,
The flowers will bloom and nourish.
The beach will call us back home,
With shells and other treasures to comb.
Our friends and neighbors will begin anew,
Strengthened, by all that they went through.
Together, we will return to our paradise,
A singular and cherished isle, without price.
More beautiful and inspiring, than even before,
As, once again, we wander, on her mystic shore.
Hope Rising
Out of the depths of destruction, despair, and trauma that we bore,
Where homes, and memories, like footprints,
were washed from the shore.
How could we go on against insurmountable odds, and dire predictions,
While holding on to our dreams our desires, aspirations, and convictions.
Like the mythic Phoenix, rising from ashes, to renewal and rebirth,
Our Sanibel will, rebuild and restore, our bit of heaven on earth.
For all we who live, and work, and love this marvelous treasure,
Hope is rising as each day passes, with strength beyond measure.
After the Storm
The violence ceased, and the wind’s strangling grip released,
Dark clouds parted slowly with the passing of the untamed beast.
Warm, reassuring light, filled the seams, as it descended the sky,
Shimmering, on the now calm waters, the day, saying goodbye.
The flood of color, overcame the fear, and terror waned, at last,
The sun immersed itself in the sea, and hope, was anew, steadfast.
Reminding us, once again, that although, so very high was the cost,
Our home and community, will overcome, and our heart will not be lost.
Clay Serving Pieces by Sally Hanser
Ian made everything ugly. It turned beauty upside down and left us stunned and overwhelmed. We are all affected by our environment and being surrounded with everything dead and dirty, I decided to make something pretty and white. I have never worked in clay before now. My pieces are for serving…..for “serving” others. They are to make you smile…offering something clean and fresh to see. I hope they remind you that, no matter what your circumstances are, you can always seek beauty in the barren times, if you are willing to look…..and serve.
Sally Hanser
Marcia Chauvet
Narration from local NPR station for the Marcy Tatrai memorial stone story can be found in the link below. It describes the remarkable recovery of a memorial stone by Marcia and Ken Cieslak and how they reunited it with the Tatrai family.
https://news.wgcu.org/2022-10-21/small-stone-memorial-set-on-sanibel-island-comes-back-to-family-despite-ians-surging-surf
Porcelain Art by Patty Sprankle
This painted porcelain artwork by Patty Sprankle of the angel window at St. Michael and All Angels Episcopal Church was gifted to me shortly after I became rector of the church. Patty explained that after she had finished it, it was laying flat on a table when one of the tools she uses accidentally fell on it.
As you can see, it landed in the middle & broke the work into several star-shaped pieces. Rather than thinking it was ruined, Patty glued it back together using gold paint. As you can see, it is even more beautiful now in its brokenness. It is a reminder to me that beauty can come even from the brokenness of Ian. I see it as a sign of Hope Rising for our beautiful island home. The Rev. Bill Van Oss
The Spirit of Love that is Sanibel, Remains.
Written by Linda Linsmayer
Inspired by Frankie Linsmayer
Artwork by Lauren Linsmayer
Through the eye of Ian we see more clearly what is truly vital,
what is of true consequence.
It isn’t our stuff.
For we have had our precious, sentimental possessions,
mercilessly heaped and clawed and hauled away
as mere debris to decay in landfills.
It isn’t our shelters.
For our homes are gutted.
It is our spirits; the spirit of love, that is essential and that remains.
All things former can be, and were, washed away.
But what God created: LOVE, remains.
In the aftermath of it all, we have loved well
and been well-loved by one another
in an immeasurable up-welling of loving-kindness.
Ian may have made landfall for a day,
But God and love remain the strongest forces of nature on Sanibel.
Right here. Right now.
Our love for one another remains.
Our love for our community remains.
And that is why we remain.
Pickleball Among the Ruins
by Len Edgerly
On Sunday mornings
we carry our net down the first hole
to the club.
Green and blue and white
mark the new courts
surrounded by mangled black fence.
We start at the no-volley line.
We practice dinking soft shots
back and forth
low over the net
relaxed and alert.
orange wiffle balls
pop and plunk,
a silly sound
80 days after the hurricane.
Moving and playing
like kids who snuck into
an abandoned house,
turned it into a sand castle,
a place to forget insurance adjusters,
car-high debris piles,
lost and shattered lives
after the storm.
Plop, plot, pivot, reach—
each serve might start a rally
that lasts forever.
Hope Ascending by Danielle Quina
Sunrise Lighthouse by Rachel Pierce
Art by Rachel Pierce
The Twelve Days of Ian by Natalie Guerra
My name is Natalie Guerra and I am a 26 year old aspiring poetess. Thank you so much for the opportunity to participate in such a moving event for our community. If anyone is interested in finding me on social media I am @whiterabbitnat on all platforms. I wrote "The Twelve Days of Ian"; the day my neighborhood had our power restored (Oct. 9th, 2022). I wanted to encapsulate the feeling of our shared time without electricity after such a devastating storm. May it move others through a similar range of emotions, and ultimately leave them with the same feeling of hope.
Day One: Cozied up with hurricane snacks like a partridge in a pear tree.
Day Two: Time moved turtle-slow as the shutters came off, revealing the destruction we'd yet to see.
Day Three: Prayed for a calling bird... To call for help. We all need help.
Day Four: And on the fourth day, not even God could turn on the light.
Day Five: Thought of how golden it would be if any of our phones could ring...
Day Six: Even geese are more productive. They have their eggs while we lay in our soggy beds.
Day Seven: They've come to save us from the natural disaster we're swimming in... Drowning in... In.
Day Eight: If beggars can't be choosers, why won't vegans drink free milk?
Day... Uhm... How many days has it been?
Day Ten: Lord, I'm leaping to get out of here…
Day Eleven: That song is too long! Stuck in my head like me in my house... At least I have a house.
Day Twelve: Neighbor banged the drum! Said, "We have power!" It felt like Christmas!
~Thank you so much for the opportunity to share a form of healing expression with my community. May we all harness the unique type of light and love that shines through disasters like these.
Seahorse by Jolita Ward
I made a seahorse from organic debris I found in my neighborhood on Sanibel from Hurricane Ian. I think it looks pretty good on my wall and it will remind me how the effects of Hurricane Ian inspired me to make something creative. Jolita Ward jolitaeward@live.com
Slippery Sand by Maggii Sarfaty
I am a professional Maryland artist and huge Sanibel fan. Sanibel awakened my art journey 10 years ago, I was a muralist and was diagnosed with an auto immune disease, what ended one career, opened the door to another.
My website is maggiisarfaty.com
Note: Maggii donated this piece of art to St. Michael's for use in the community space they hope to open soon.
Pyrography by Art Addie
artaddie1001@gmail.com
Three Poems by Jim Weyent
Next are three poems written by Jim Weyant. Jim and his wife Helene discovered Sanibel forty three years ago and think it’s the best place on earth as do their children and grandchildren to a one. They continue to be inspired everyday by the friendliness of the people, its small town feel (outside of the tourist season), and the sheer beauty of the island itself. Jim is one man who is truly living his dream and who never for a single minute harbored a thought about giving up on this magical slice of Eden.
A Last Lingering Tear
I watched Ian approach and proceed to savage my dream,
Like some evil presence executing a Machiavellian scheme.
I am consumed by grief, that this island of infinite allure
Be reduced to near rubble is more than I’m able to endure.
Our slice of Eden been brought to its very knees,
By twelve feet of water and angry winds from the seas.
Even as my pain subsides, tears remain awash upon my face.
I rise to my feel and exclaim, loudly enough for all about to hear. “Sanibel will rise once more”, as I wipe away a last lingering tear.
Sanibel Strong
From the very first photo of an island from asunder,
Chronicling the desolation that left us all to wonder.,
Can we rise up once more, to draw on our spirit ’n love
And rebuild this island Eden with God’s help from above.?
The reply, a resounding yes for we’ve had time to mourn.
United in a common purpose our paradise shall be reborn.
Hark the din of hammer ‘n saw it’s truly a most beautiful song
One that’s ever to remind us all we must ever be Sanibel strong.
Hope
Upon early morning a caravan of trucks flowed across the causeway. At once Islander hopes rose. People began to return, and soon the lights would glow with everyone pitching in their hope continued to grow. Out on the East end stand an inspiration to all. Upon three legs it rises our lighthouse august and tall. It’s now most obvious Sanibel is destined to survive, our beloved Isle rising from the depths to come alive.
Susie Wilson
Beginning Again by Kirk Gulledge
A photo of a tree trying to put out some new sprigs after it was battered by the storm.
Photos by Ed Saternus edsaternus@yahoo.com
Debris Art by Amy Paterson peppermintpaterson@gmail.com
Art is created from debris found in the rubble from Hurricane Ian. The historic storm devastated SW Florida September 28, 2022. Amy has always had a flair for eclectic and unique art and the storm has inspired her to find the beauty in the ugliness of the aftermath. She matches debris with ideas she dreams about to create art that will inspire other Ian survivors. She hopes her art creates happiness, peace and some light in the darkness! Enjoy!
Photos by Theresa Baldwin drtheresatb@gmail.com
Art by Terry Gardiner terrygar@hotmail.com
Randall Saunders
Randall is a long time Sanibel snowbird with a heartfelt love for our island. In his introduction
Randall writes: I will never forget the first time I drove over Sanibel's causeway, almost 30 years ago. There was a drawbridge back then, a section that could lift and open, so boats could pass. Once on the causeway, I drove over the tiny islets on the way to a Sanibel Island I had not yet seen. When I finally arrived and I explored Sanibel-Captiva, I knew I wanted to spend significant time here. Now I can say I have spent at least 20 winters on Sanibel, and they have all been relaxing and
memorable. The devastation caused by Hurricane Ian is truly sad and many have suffered serious loss. But, the island is still here; wounded and scarred perhaps, but still alive. The heart of Sanibel is not dead. It is only a matter of time before Sanibel's natural beauty, its wildlife, its people, and its unique tropical paradise will be revived and restored. I have written this poem for myself and others in the aftermath of Ian.
Islands, Animals and Light
Think of the space you had when young:
So blue, with water everywhere.
Think of the fruits that touched your tongue,
The orange birds that filled the air.
If we could but rig our minds to sail
And change our course with each good breeze
Or trace a native dancer’s tale
As far as any human sees,
Then we could save this stretch of sand
Before it dies into the night,
And say that we have kept a land
Of island, animals, and light.
Paintings and Watercolor of Sanibel and Sanibel lighthouse myralynn51@msn.com
Jewelry Art by Robin L. Cook majestichills@outlook.com
Olivia Harre
Olivia wrote this piece for a publication of Calvin College, a small college in Grand Rapids Michigan. The publication extends to a broad readership, and Olivia’s writing has given insight for thousands of people to better understand the magic of Sanibel Island and the impact of hurricane Ian.
Since I was a little girl, Sanibel Island was my sacred place. It held a bit of magic, with its innumerable shells and uncommon wildlife and watercolor sunsets. As I grew older, it was the place I connected most with family, where our “real” lives paused long enough to rest and enjoy creation and each other’s company. It was tropical and wild and unspeakably beautiful. It was
the place I felt most at peace. Was.
About a month ago, Hurricane Ian tore across the island. The storm surge reached up to ten feet, sweeping away homes and businesses and all their contents, scattering them across the island and out to sea. It left behind a trail of devastation the likes of which I’ve seen on the news a million times but never experienced personally. Until now. The pictures are surreal. There’s something about seeing your favorite grocery store, restaurant, bookstore, and home demolished that is irreparably unsettling. The island I’ve always loved has been turned into unrecognizable wreckage, and the aftermath is apocalyptic. I realize I am incredibly blessed to even be writing this. I wasn’t on the island during the storm, and this isn’t my actual home that was destroyed. But it is home to decades of memories for my family, home to the realization of dreams and sweet conversations and our favorite snowy plover birds—and I deeply feel the pain of this loss. This grief is mine to own and honor and feel.
I never took the island for granted, even when I was younger. Every time I looked out our window to the ocean or watched a pelican dive for a fish or fell asleep to the sound of the waves, it felt surreal. That I would get to spend time in such a magical place and feel it restore my soul was beyond me. I became a bird-watcher, studied the different shells, swam in the ocean and
walked along the shore until my feet hurt. I woke up at sunrise to bike in the nature preserve and feel the warm breeze in my hair and look for alligators and osprey. In the wake of the hurricane, there has been so much to mourn. But what I’ll be missing the most is a place to rest: the place where I saw my parents, who never stop spinning their wheels for others, take a minute to just breathe and be. Where I saw my grandma relax and remember years of sweet memories on the island, where my cousin made creative and delicious dishes for the family and we all played card games crowded around the kitchen table. My therapist told me that rest is an inside job—that we don’t need Sanibel in order to experience rest or have these cherished moments. I found this revelation wildly inconvenient as someone who tends to run away when life is overwhelming or sad or difficult. I would love to believe travel will solve all my problems, but I know she’s right. We need to find internal moments of Sanibel rest until we can one day return to the island.
Our carpet and furniture and walls are all moldy and gone, but the building remains. The palm and mangrove trees were stripped of their leaves, and much of the vegetation on the island has turned brown. A layer of salty murk coats the island and piles of rubble line the roads we blissfully biked down just a few months ago. But there are little bits of green appearing in the trees, the birds are returning and the bobcats are freely roaming the island. Sanibel will grow back from this trauma, but it will be different. Stronger and wilder. I look forward to the day we experience its beauty again.
Beach Life/Resin by Nicole Fiumara orders@beachresinartwork.com
Chair and Bird Feeder by Lori Fanning rosapines2@comcast.net
By January, I had not felt creative for even one moment. But after finding this chair at the Thrift store, one day I decided to give it new life. It gave me joy and an outlet to express myself. It actually took longer to sew the fluff on the arm than it did to paint it!
Looking to fill the yard with color and life, I began to feed the birds again. I now have more birds in the yard than ever before. This glass bird feeder should make them feel quite at home. I have been making yard art for several years. This is the first since Ian.
Dana Enders www.paintingsbydanaenders.com
Tom Prather, currently residing in the Lodge at Cypress Cove, is a well known producer and founder of the Broadway Palm Dinner Theater. He is also an artist, and many of his works are exhibited at the theater. Very recently, tom was diagnosed with late stage bone cancer and he has chosen not to receive further treatment. He created this work for his own discernment and is cheerful to share this piece with our Hope Rising display.
Doreen Bolhuis
This is a Facebook post written in late October for friends and family to share my experiences and emotions in the aftermath of Ian. For me, the experience of Sanibel Island post-Ian is analogous to the emotions when a loved one has a stroke or their heart stops. When a loved one suffers a life-threatening event and the medical team brings the body to life again - a small heartbeat or tiny breath - we are filled with hope and gratitude. After that initial breath of life, our loved one begins recovery, and we then
realize how long the journey will be for them and we grieve the many losses at the same time we bravely walk beside them to help with hope and determination for the future. Sanibel’s beating heart seemed to stop after Ian. When we first arrived by boat, everything looked dead. But soon, islanders and people from all over the world arrived to revive her. At first there was barely a detectable heartbeat or breath, but Sanibel’s life kept getting stronger every day, and my heart rejoiced with every step. The recovery will be hard and long but the men and women here are strong and committed; my kind of people.
Although we all grieve, we are not overcome and we keep our eyes focused forward to create a bright new future for Sanibel no matter how long it takes. We take joy in the water, sunshine, the wildlife and sea life, the companionship of loving people, and the spirit of our beloved island. These are the simple things that have always brought us joy and which sustain us as we rebuild our island homes. There is a beautiful bonding that happens when people are joined together in recovery from adversity. A unity of purpose supersedes anything that might divide. I have been grateful to see the best of humanity and to be part of it. People from all over the United States left home and family to live in spartan conditions to help us. Thank you to those beautiful people! So many of them have lifted us up with their strong bodies and smiles; I will never forget them. Islanders are determined and resilient people who are committed to community which is why I love it here. And even though our island is currently broken and disfigured, there is still thepeace and tranquility that has always been Sanibel. The island still calls to me with her magic.
As our island struggles to heal, I rejoice at each small step and look forward to Sanibel’s bright future.
Cathy Lanier – Facebook posts about Ian
From December 4, 2022:
Went to church today, and for me, that means I took a walk on the beach out in front of our rental condo. As I was communing with God about His wonder in creating such a beautiful place, but also His hand in the devastation of a storm that causes such destruction, the word "Renewal" kept coming to mind. People falsely relate to others that our beaches are "dangerous" and not to be trod. That's not true. Beaches will always renew themselves -- they need no assistance from us, and Sanibel's beaches are doing just that. They're filing in the gullies and washes created by the storm already, and the birds and sea life are doing what they do. The shells are just as plentiful and beautiful, and the waters are getting clearer and clearer. It's a little touch and go to access them, so only the nimble in sturdy shoes should try it, but it's worth the trip, if for nothing else but to get a little sense of normalcy in this surreal existence in which we're all unwitting participants. It's true we're nowhere near ready for tourists, and won't be for some time. But the natural beauty that is Sanibel will remain and restore. So, my prayer today was to protect this unique place. Prevent the greedy bastards that are just waiting for us to crack so they can buy up our beautiful island, plot by plot, and turn it into another gaudy, tacky, overpriced beach resort town with no respect for its history and beauty. We can't let that happen. We have to keep the spirit, uniqueness, and natural beauty that is Sanibel, and do everything in our power to prevent the corporate beach idea from impacting our lifestyle and the specialness of this place. In order to do that, we must bring back our island. Bring back its family-owned businesses. Bring back our core. Support that effort. Truly. Support that effort.
From November 24, 2022 (Thanksgiving Day):
Took a little mental health break today and went in search of a beach that was relatively safe to access -- I needed my toes in the sand since I haven't done that since before the storm. Since most of what's surrounding Beach Access #6 has been washed or blown away, that's where we went. Eerily quiet, and shells everywhere once you get past the dead fish (and smell) washed up
on the beach. Felt almost normal as long as you were looking gulfward. As soon as you turn around and see what looks like bombed-out structures, you have to come to reckoning with the power of mother nature. I have to believe this happened to make the way for renewal - of property, of vision, of love and faith in each other and any higher power that you respect. The day I was getting dressed to evacuate my beloved Sanibel for shelter in a hotel in Ft. Myers, I pulled out a t-shirt with a simple word: Joyful. I made up my mind right then and there to make every effort to stay true to that simple dictum. To remain joyful, no matter what: Joyful for the time I've had to enjoy my Sanibel paradise; joyful for the friends, old and new, I've had the
opportunity with whom to share this wondrous island and all it has to offer; joyful for the hope to restore and reimagine the symbol of hope this place can become for the rest of the world. Some days are tougher than others to uphold that joy, but sometimes, you have to & "fake it til you make it."
We will rebuild. We will restore. We will survive. For everything we've lost, there are twice that many blessings just in knowing this special place is still our home and respite from the stresses of the day. So, on this Thanksgiving Day, join with me to remain joyful for it all: What we've had, what we've lost, and what we can restore and give back to preserve this unique paradise that others visit and marvel at every year. We LIVE where others long to vacation. That's really something to cherish, and I'll be damned if I'll allow a puny Cat 4 or 5 hurricane to steal that joy from me!
Brenda DeCapua
Brenda stayed on the island during hurricane Ian and she lived in a ground level home. She took refuge on the second story of her neighbor’s home and watched the storm surge rise to the level of the roof of her home next door. She was rescued by helicopter two days later and only then learned that her husband had passed away at 1:30 on the day of the storm at the nursing home in Fort Myers where he suffered with Alzheimer’s. This is a letter written to her friends and family. It describes her experience in hurricane Ian and concludes with thoughts of gratitude and hope for the future.
Dear Friends,
September 28, 2022. It’s been 107 days since my life changed forever. I lost my best friend and husband and my home on the same day. I don’t usually write this much ever but, as they say, extraordinary circumstances….bring extraordinary responses. Part of my recovery is writing and being thankful for my life and the ability to rebuild. On September 28th I left my home with too little – clothes for a couple days, meds, iPad, phone and thinking we would be right back home the next day. After all the last
few hurricanes I’d been thru the next day we were right back home with everything intact. We left behind the things we never think to carry with us, like photo albums, the DeCapua code of arms, my mother’s engagement ring my father gave to her in
1938. My pearls and jewelry my husband gave me throughout our 37 years of marriage. Plus, numerous gifts and mementos from grandchildren and our children. On that Wednesday morning my heart raced at the howling winds, the pool cage being
ripped into shreds, the fences being torn from the ground. I watched my husband’s favorite Bismarck palm tree being ripped into pieces and our roof shingles blowing in all directions. Our Whole home generator worked flawlessly until the storm surge took it under water. I prayed the surge would stay at bay but I knew it was coming and with a force I had never seen. It was like being on a trans-Atlantic flight going through terrible turbulence knowing everyone you love was on board and going to suffer the full force of Mother Nature. We rushed to our neighbors 3 story house around 10:30 am on the 28th knowing it was
our only choice, which saved our lives. We stayed on the second floor, listening to the water slosh back and forth on the first level. The fan blades on the lanai being ripped off one by one. The sliding storm doors on the third floor being slammed back and forth for hours until they were ripped from the house. The outside lights being ripped from the house that was just built 2 years before. The noise was unnerving and the water rising was beyond my worst fears. It was a very long loud scary day into the evening.
The next day we heard the Causeway was destroyed and that Sanibel had been ravaged by the storm. We ventured out the next morning after the storm surge had receded. We all knew that life as we had known it on our little slice of paradise had been
changed forever. We’ve all lost so much: homes, sentimental items, cars, jobs, businesses and parts of Sanibel. But here’s the good news: we mostly all survived. I am heartbroken for the families of those who didn’t make it. I’m thankful for my neighbors, family, friends, the neighborhood and how we all came together to help each other. I am thankful to so many of my family and friends that were so kind and thoughtful to me. I appreciated all who came to Joe’s celebration of life and gave me strength to keep moving. The town will rebuild. Some people are already posting online wondering why we would rebuild. If you have ever spent time on our island, then you will, perhaps, understand. Sanibel is not just shells and beaches and glorious skies that give you a glimpse of God. Not just a place where Magnificent Frigatebirds circle overhead, and Osprey pairs return every year to start a new family. Sanibel is a small town where we stop traffic for a gopher tortoise and patrol the beaches to protect sea turtle nests. A place where there’s a Sea School and a grocery store, a trailer park that’s been run by the same family since before the island’s founding. A place where artists paint manatee statues to raise money for affordable housing, and the whole community loves the Ding Darling refuge and the Shell Museum. So that’s also what all of us who call Sanibel home lost. That we will rebuild the Island means so much to so many all across this country and so many other countries. I want to thank everyone who has sent love, prayers, gift cards, words of wisdom, kindness and most of all strength to face each day and keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Maureen Corpron-Vel Hope Rising
We had busied ourselves with the events of the week and day. Folks traveling to work, parents at school events, doctors’ appointments, shopping, I was running a moving sale for a client. Then somehow in a very busy life cycle for us all, mother nature reared her ugly head and threatened to sabotage our lives as we knew them. It is so interesting to me how very important our meager daily tasks become and we seemingly feel that nothing looming before us can be interrupted or changed. The thought is laughable now, but the reality at the time is quite another matter.
Going about our daily routines my moving team listened anxiously to the blow-by-blow report on the radio as Hurricane Ian inched its way along the coast, not quite deciding which way to turn. I am sad to confess that I silently prayed Sanibel would be spared which only meant that someone else would be in the devastating path of Ian. So why not me, a terrible event I’m wanting to escape, but surely not wishing it on the unknown families further up the coast. A troubling conundrum to be faced with. We are but flesh and bones and as futile as our human conspiring’s are daily for productive, peaceful and busy days in our foolishness we have no control. My silent resolution was to pray for mercy and strength for the outcome and task at hand, compassion and grace to help those less fortunate, and oh yes Lord in your mercy, take this cup from all of us and let Ian go out to sea!
Surrounded by my team members and faithful followers of our sales I received words of encouragement and as the news degraded and Sanibel and surrounding area was not to be spared, encouragement turned to tears, hugs, gasps and horror. I experienced this once before on 9-11 when I was in an emergency room in Oshawa Ontario Canada as the planes hit the trade center which led to their collapse. When folks found out that we were Americans it led total strangers to embrace us, pray for us, support us. All the issues that separated us faded away and we were a suffering people, loving one another and lending support and encouragement when and where needed. We are all humans after all and there is more that units us than divides us.
Day 9 post Ian a boat trip to the island confirmed our worst fears. Our island paradise home had been heavily damaged. We are all in this boat together, thousands of hurting, homeless and suffering people along the Florida coast. But somehow, I took it a bit personally. Afterall it was my bedroom wall that was now laying 2 stories below, my TV still attached to the wall. All my quilts, material, sewing machines, Christmas decorations, memorabilia, tools and such that was underwater and gone. Some floating away, most water logged and covered in mud. Gone. We had worked so hard for 3 years, racing to the finish line of a re-modeled home and at last our life’s efforts realized and the much dreamed of and coveted retirement. Life at a different pace and choosing how to spent our days in paradise. A beautiful reward for a lifetime of hard work and planning.
It took a few months to re-gain our footing, recover from the shock of it all, process and set aside our sadness and plan a way forward. It started small with an invitation to our scattered neighbors to gather at a recently opened Sanibel restaurant to break bread together, catch up, laugh and support one another. As we all began to come back to our homes to clean and clear away the clutter and hopefully fix up our homes to live in, more time was spent meeting on streets, in driveways and gathering on lawns sharing experiences, problem solving, words of wisdom and sharing knowledge we had gained. We discovered that kindness doesn’t cost a thing, yet it is the richest gift you can give during times like these and hopefully we will remember these lessons moving well into the future.
We celebrate each neighbor who gets to move back into their homes and businesses and cried with those who lost all and had to move on and of course through it all prayed for one another. We recently had a cookout for about 25 neighbors in the driveway of a home not yet able to be occupied. Folks brought grills that survived, dishes to pass, lawn chairs and stories and we celebrated, laughed and shared words of encouragement with one another.
Someone asked me, so have you cried yet? I was thoughtful and replied not for myself but for the tremendous suffering of all those other people all over the world who are facing hardship, fear, loss and pain. Because certainly now we all know how that really feels, not just a story on the 6:00 news. She was quick to hug me and say that she would cry for me, I was touched into silence, grateful, thankful and I finally realized that at the end of each day gratitude turns what we have into enough. Promising us a new start at a new dawn and always in our hearts a hope for a better and brighter tomorrow.
