When I arrived in Puerto Rico, just a few days before Thanksgiving, almost two full months has passed since Maria made landfall in Puerto Rico. And I don't know what I expected to find. But even then, there were indications that recovery was going to be fast and slow.
Amazing food, everywhere - the kitchens were open. Lots of hustle and bustle. Grocery stores, stocked with food. A few shelves were a little threadbare, but there was nothing that I needed that I couldn't get. Well, except for a hotel room....
I came in to my office on day, and on the way I saw some beautiful flowers, and almost immediately fell in love with the tropical paradise. It was as if I was hearing half of the song from West Side Story:
Always the pineapples growing,
Always the coffee blossoms blowing . . .
Yes. It is still a disaster zone. There were piles of debris. There were downed trees and power lines. There were buildings with broken windows.
And then, there were some trees that had just started to put on leaves, despite the hit.
All the leaves that remained were tattered, and most were ripped off. But there was, at least, a little evidence of what could come back.
Much of our work is like that. All around are small pieces of evidence that there is such richness here. Brilliant people. Natural resources. Lovely setting. And from that setting there have been huge tatters - natural disasters, crumbling infrastructure, brain drain (bringing the brightest minds to the mainland), and it has left the island looking a little threadbare.
And then Maria hit.
In the midst of this beauty and brokenness, we are trying to figure out a way to rebuild - how to take the resources that are here, to take a broken situation, and make it right. Some of the work is pure MacGyver - our teams are scavenging old towers and broken lines to re-use whatever we can, and whatever can be fixed, we are fixing. And in some cases, we are bringing in new material to supplement and replace.
But our hope is that the input will result in something beautiful.
Yesterday, I looked out the window of the office where I had been working, and I saw just a tiny flash of color where there hadn't been any before, and my heart lifted to see it. The beat up and tattered plumeria that was fighting to survive when I arrived.... was putting out its first flowers. In spite of the battering, in spite of the neglect, it was coming back.
Some days, Puerto Rico's recovery seems like an unachievable goal. And then, somehow, there is a tiny breakthrough, and we get to see it. Power poles being erected. Electrical cable being delivered.
A village, alive with lights.
Recovery, in its elusive beauty, is unfurling, little by little. And as it does, the result is glorious. It makes me glad that we are here, playing our part in a difficult process.
Estamos aqui.
Amazing food, everywhere - the kitchens were open. Lots of hustle and bustle. Grocery stores, stocked with food. A few shelves were a little threadbare, but there was nothing that I needed that I couldn't get. Well, except for a hotel room....
I came in to my office on day, and on the way I saw some beautiful flowers, and almost immediately fell in love with the tropical paradise. It was as if I was hearing half of the song from West Side Story:
Always the pineapples growing,
Always the coffee blossoms blowing . . .
Yes. It is still a disaster zone. There were piles of debris. There were downed trees and power lines. There were buildings with broken windows.
And then, there were some trees that had just started to put on leaves, despite the hit.
 |
| Plumeria with a few remaining leaves. |
All the leaves that remained were tattered, and most were ripped off. But there was, at least, a little evidence of what could come back.
Much of our work is like that. All around are small pieces of evidence that there is such richness here. Brilliant people. Natural resources. Lovely setting. And from that setting there have been huge tatters - natural disasters, crumbling infrastructure, brain drain (bringing the brightest minds to the mainland), and it has left the island looking a little threadbare.
And then Maria hit.
In the midst of this beauty and brokenness, we are trying to figure out a way to rebuild - how to take the resources that are here, to take a broken situation, and make it right. Some of the work is pure MacGyver - our teams are scavenging old towers and broken lines to re-use whatever we can, and whatever can be fixed, we are fixing. And in some cases, we are bringing in new material to supplement and replace.
But our hope is that the input will result in something beautiful.
Yesterday, I looked out the window of the office where I had been working, and I saw just a tiny flash of color where there hadn't been any before, and my heart lifted to see it. The beat up and tattered plumeria that was fighting to survive when I arrived.... was putting out its first flowers. In spite of the battering, in spite of the neglect, it was coming back.
Some days, Puerto Rico's recovery seems like an unachievable goal. And then, somehow, there is a tiny breakthrough, and we get to see it. Power poles being erected. Electrical cable being delivered.
A village, alive with lights.
Recovery, in its elusive beauty, is unfurling, little by little. And as it does, the result is glorious. It makes me glad that we are here, playing our part in a difficult process.
Estamos aqui.
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