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New Orleans in the spring of 2005 was absolutely beautiful and it cheered me up.  Hurricane predictions came.  As usual, it was dire, seeming to be getting worse as the years went along.  I said a prayer for the Gulf Coast residents; but the city of New Orleans and the state of Florida was top on my list.  A major storm supposedly would devastate New Orleans and Florida had been struck so many times in recent years, I’d lost count.  Certainly, they were weary.  But I thought we’d be spared this year.  Our weather was just too beautiful not to believe that.  Besides, we always dodged the bullet.

On August 14th, I didn’t rest too well.  I was in terrible pain.  I finally awakened at five in the morning and told my mom I was going to Tulane because I might be in labor.  She wanted to call my Uncle Blaise to drive me there or wake my grandmother up, who lived right upstairs in our rental unit so she could go with me.  Or at the least, call the fair committee chairperson.  She’d definitely drive me there.  I refused.  I figured they’d only tell me once again it was false labor and send me back home anyway.  Why bother anyone so early in the morning?

By 9:00am, I was a new mom for a third time to a beautiful little girl named Alegra Christine.  I didn’t see her for six hours.  Her oxygen levels were lower than normal and my legs had “died” on my.  They put them in compression socks for the next 30 hours straight.

On August 18th, Alegra and I were released, blissfully unaware what lie ahead, ignorant of the blessing her early arrival had been, ten days away from fleeing a monster and being separated from our family and eleven away from losing everything familiar to us and the only home I have ever known.  Who knew that God would put in our path two women, their husbands, families and friends who would show me what generosity of spirit and belief in God truly is.

On August 28th, hearing that the hurricane named Katrina was jogging farther and farther west, on a track that would send it careening directly into New Orleans, we headed to Terrell, Texas, 35 miles south of Dallas along I-20, at the invitation of a writer friend of ours.  After a couple days, we were asked to leave.  Her husband is ill and, she said, the kids made her nervous.  The night before we left, we received a telephone call from a lady with a calm and friendly voice telling me she’d heard about me and she and her writing group wanted to adopt my family and I.  She introduced herself as Eloisa James.

I remember how lost I felt but even in my state I knew who Eloisa James was.  Her books were at my house.  Underwater now, but there all the same.  She mentioned other writers whose books I read.  And whose books suffered the same fate as hers. When she asked me what did I want most, I told her towels.  It was the oddest request now that I think about it, but that’s what I told her.  She promised to get me lots of towels and she also promised to call back the next day.  I cried after I spoke to her.  I was grateful that people cared enough to want to adopt us but how could all that we lost ever be replaced?

On August 31st, Zoey turned 9.  But by this time, our home in New Orleans was under water; our city had descended into madness; an inch of my cesarean section cut had opened and our tears flowed like the floodwaters inundating my beautiful city.

I didn’t receive Eloisa’s call the next night because by this time we’d moved.  I knew we’d never hear from the lady I’d requested lots of towels from.  But she called the house where we’d been staying and our new number was given to her.  She called the next day.

Despite her busy schedule, Eloisa coordinated an amazing drive for my family and I.  We received clothes, household items, boxes of books, cds, movies, curtains, pots, tvs, toiletries, gift cards, and money.  We received well-wishes and prayers, cards and poems.

Then, one day, Eloisa called and said a lady contacted her about us.  She’d heard about us through Squawk Radio and felt a connection.  She’d had a baby around the time Alegra was born via C-section and she hadn’t been able to rest thinking of me and my family.  She wanted to buy gifts for my family for Christmas. 

What started out as a few gifts turned into a miracle.  Laura got her husband involved.  From there, the two of them decided not to give each other Christmas presents so that they could give my daughters and my mom and I a Christmas.  Eloisa would call me whenever Laura emailed her about us.  They become our Christmas angels, a modern day gift of the Magi.  We only had our gratitude to give in return.

We felt grateful and blessed.  But there was such a profound sadness in us.  Our friends and family is scattered across the country.  North Louisiana.  Mississippi.  Alabama.  Arkansas.  Texas.  Virginia.  Georgia.  South Carolina.  Illinois.  Some of these people we may never see again.  Some we may not ever know what became of them.  So when my grandmother asked my mom to move yet again from Terrell to be near her and the rest of our family here in Rosenberg, we didn’t hesitate.

We were blessed with a house in March 2006.  The note is affordable, but the taxes aren’t.  Laura asked Eloisa about us and heard how we were still struggling.  I have suffered with depression for years.  Post partum depression worsened my clinical depression and the hurricane and our flight from it added to it.  At times, my depression has been so bad that I’ve attempted things I shouldn’t have.  Again, I thought of those things, this time for money I hoped my family would get to survive from my term policies. For us, on our behalf, because she has a heart of gold, Laura wrote in to the Rachael Ray Show.

From that act, we received another chance.  Best of all, we received the gift of Laura’s, Tim’s, Eloisa’s, and Alessandro’s friendship.  We met and chatted and formed a lifetime bond.  I fell in love with New York City and the vibrancy there that reminds me of New Orleans, but on a much larger scale.

To all of you, I say thank you, God bless you, Happy Holidays.  Peace and joy to you and your family for now and evermore.  You have given me hope and renewal.  The day after I Fed-Exed the check (thanks to Rachel Ray) that would catch up on my house notes and pay it through May of next year, we received a notice of pre-foreclosure.

To all of you, I rededicate this, which was included in Immortal Verses:

Angel On Our Shoulders
Mother, Zoey, Kate, and Allegra

Upon our shoulders, an angel rests.
With golden robes and gossamer wings.
She whispers softly in our ears,
not to worry, she’s taken care of everything.

Upon our shoulders, an angel rests.
Billowy clouds at her fingertips,
to lift her gracefully above us all,
watching over us until we are called home.

Leslie Christine Ferdinand

Copyright ©2006 Leslie Christine Ferdinand