fourish months

as I sit in my extended stay hotel room eating peanut butter out of a jar with banana in hand and of monsters and men playing on my ipad in the background, I've only just realized how much I appreciate these moments of silence and decompression. 

this past saturday, we moved from our first location in illinois to another suburb of chicago (aka more permanent housing)  and jumped right back into work on memorial day. we've been working six days a week from early in the morning to late at night and there's not much time to just sit back and take it all in. our work days are spent going from home to home registering people who had flood damage for assistance. some homes were hit with several feet of water and others had an inch or two. going door to door from affected neighborhood to affected neighborhood asking people if/how much damage they had in their homes has taught me not only how to build stamina (walking around in 85 degree weather with what appears to be 1000% humidity decked out in thick boot socks and steel-toed boots has prepared me for anything) but also how to be patient and listen to others. it has seemed so easy to fall into a routine of just asking someone if they have registered with FEMA or if they would like me to help them register that moment and to forget the reason that I'm going around asking people if they have registered. many of the residents in these neighborhoods have experienced heartache and frustration from losing thousands of dollars worth of hardwork in their basements or their personal keepsakes that were held in their basements as storage, including irreplaceable childhood photo albums. it's the moments that I'm able to find a place and time to sit by myself (rare to find in an extended stay where I share a bed with my teammates) that I'm finally able to reflect on the work that I am a part of every single day. 

it's easy to get disheartened when you have a day where, not only do you come home to an aching farmer's tan that is slowly taking over your forearms, but you also don't feel needed or wanted in a community. but tomorrow is a new day and a new opportunity to assist another person. I think it's important to remember to stay positive and remember that, even if I can't see it every day, we are having positive impacts on communities affected by disaster. and hearing people say, "wow, FEMA? this is a surprise..thank you so much for coming out here to check in on us. you've done so much and we cannot thank you enough" really turns a long day right around.

oh, and the endless complimenting from older retired gentlemen on our steel-toed boots doesn't hurt too much either. 

ps. did I mention my FEMA corps team made some big strides in the FEMA world lately and was recognized on the website for our work in new york with hurricane sandy recovery? (#casual)

https://www.fema.gov/about-fema/employee-news-and-announcements/fema-corps-becomes-critical-part-femas-new-york