On August 28, 2005 our phone rang. At the other end of the line was my mother in law. She was calling to let us know that she and my father in law were going to ride out the storm at the Baptist church at the entrance to their neighborhood in Diamondhead, Mississippi. Their neighbors had finally convinced them not to stay in their home during the storm, but to instead go up to the church situated on higher ground and with a basement in order to be in a safer spot. That was the last time we spoke with them for 4 days.

On Thursday, September 1, 2005 I was standing in line at Sam's to buy some water, gas cans, and baby wipes. Exhausted looking police with machine guns were patrolling the parking lot and manning the door. Only 8 people at a time were allowed into the store and we were escorted through the store by an armed officer. The line was long, but orderly. The line at the gas pumps was non-existent, they had already run out of gas for the day. I was tired, stinky, and had already lost 5 of the 10 pounds I would lose that week.

While in line people talked. The people behind me in line had come over from Mississippi and reported that the interstate had just opened. "Just opened?" Having no electricity at home and only WWL radio, we had no idea of the devastation along the Mississippi Gulf Coast. We had only heard very scary stories of looting gangs, fires and floods from the reports out of New Orleans. In fact, at that point people were still calling in to WWL on their cell phones reporting that they were stranded in their attics or on their roofs.

"What about Diamondhead?" I asked the people from Mississippi. They shook their heads, told me much of it was gone, and told me of the storm surge that had flooded north of I-10, the area of the Baptist church in Diamondhead.

When I got home, I told my husband what I had heard and that we had to go and check on his parents. When we got to the Diamondhead exit, Alabama state troopers were guarding the off ramp. I got out of the car and asked if the Baptist church was still standing. (It was obvious from the scenery around me that it could very well be gone.) The trooper responded that the church was fine, the basement had flooded, but that he had just seen semi trucks of food going there. He was not surprised when I burst into tears and hugged him.

We drove across downed power lines to the church. I asked a lady at a folding table if Rene and June Duffour were there, they had told us they were going to ride out the storm at the church. She showed me a stack of papers and explained that it was a survivors list, a list of everyone who had eaten or slept there since the storm. I almost vomited. The parent of a patient of mine, one of the neighbors of my in laws saw me, hugged me, cried and dragged us to my husband's parents.

My father in law was sitting on the porch, smoking a cigarette, wearing donated clothes. He told everyone around him, "I told you they would come." My mother in law was cleaning up the dining room and helping get ready to cook lunch.

They lost almost everything. Their home, which was 20 feet above sea level, had 12 feet of water go through during the storm. If their neighbors had not gotten them to go to the church for the storm, my in laws would have drowned. Around 30 people rode out the storm at that Baptist church. By the time we got there on September 1, over 400 people had either eaten or slept there.

We left them at that church for 3 more days. They had generators, hot food, nurses coming by and they were safe.

19 months later, my in laws are back in Diamondhead. They went from the Baptist church to an Episcopal retreat center for 3 weeks, then to my brother in law's house for 4 weeks, then to a rental house in our town for a year. They sold the house that flooded and bought another home in Diamondhead that is on higher ground. The woman who sold them the house lost her husband after the storm and moved to Florida to be close to her children. She left everything behind except photographs and her clothes. My in laws who lost everything bought a house that is fully furnished down to stationary in the desk and a Christmas tree skirt in the closet.

Today, for the first time in 19 months I went back to Diamondhead. There have been some family get togethers at the their new home, but I have not gone. I realized a few weeks ago why. It is probably obvious to some of you, but when it is your own stuff it is not always obvious.

My husband was not the one who asked the Alabama trooper if the church holding his parents was still standing, I was. His brother helped clean and gut the house, but he did not see his father's eyes spill tears when he saw us on September 1.

Leaving those old people in that shelter was one of the most horrible moments of my life. Rarely have I felt so helpless. I did not want to ever go near that church again.

But today, our son is on spring break and he went over there to spend the day and I had to go pick him up. The drive over was painful. It is amazing how good some of us have gotten at driving and crying at the same time. The new house is nicer than the old one, the neighborhood is recovering well and my in laws are happy to be back among their friends.

The Baptist church was quiet. An out of town church van was in the parking lot, those vans are in most church parking lots around here these days. When I passed the church, I felt physically ill AND physically grateful.

I wonder if the church kept the survivor's list. Our names are on it, we ate breakfast there on September 1, 2005.