There is no chance, no destiny, no fate, that can circumvent or hinder or control the firm resolve of a determined soul. ~Ella Wheeler Wilcox

I’ve never wanted to visit New Orleans. There was nothing I wanted to see there, nothing I couldn’t catch on the news, if I ever watched the news. I stopped watching the news the night after the war on terror started. I remember sitting in a waiting room at Kaiser, watching the first bomb drop, balling. In a room full of people, wrecked and snotting everywhere.

I know my limits – what I can handle seeing and what I can’t. I didn’t think I could handle seeing the devastation of New Orleans post-Katrina. Up close and personal. It’s not that I want to be ignorant to what’s going on in the world. I’d just rather not have the visual, so I read the news. Thank goodness for Twitter or I’d feel like I live in a cave.

A few weeks ago, I landed at the New Orleans airport, feeling sick to my stomach. Not excited, not ready to party on Bourbon Street and collect beads. Certainly not looking forward to what I was about to see.

I am not often so surprised. The people of New Orleans are resilient. Happy, NICE, helpful, excited to share their stories, their rich history. A man named Dennis drove us around the French Quarter one night in a horse-drawn carriage and opened my eyes to so many beautiful things I’d missed while walking around the same area the night before. Gorgeous courtyards, hidden away! An entire river on the other side of the street! Real pirate bars with dueling pianos! Vampires in attics!

I spent the days in the lower ninth ward, where the whole town is going through major recovery. Still. All these years later. But they are recovering. There is more new construction on every block there than I have ever seen in a city before. A lot of houses are sitting, rotting away, empty. A lot of houses are brand new and gorgeous. More lots than not sit bare, where houses used to be. Such an incredible mix.

We stopped by an art shop after lunch one day, to see Dr. Bob. While we looked around at his funky signs with vintage beer bottle caps as frames, he told us all his story of Katrina. It was ugly. Difficult to hear.

The part of his story that I keep thinking back to is his description of the sound. After the hurricane, the city was silent. No leaves in the trees, blowing in the wind. No animals. No cars, no people. Nothing. Imagine that.

There was plenty of noise when I visited. Lots of music, tons of leaves on the trees, blowing in the wind. Cars whizzing by on roads full of pot holes. I’m glad I went to New Orleans. It’s a place that shows without question that determined people, no matter what challenges they face, will survive. They will find a way to laugh amidst destruction. They will help each other to rebuild their city and their lives. How refreshing.