Kind of an eerie feeling: Friday, September 12, 2008  10:00am

Well, Hurricane Ike is knocking at my door.  He will be here before I know it.  It is so weird this morning.  The calm before the storm.  There is something about the air, you can almost feel the emotions.....worry, nervousness, anxiety...yet you can feel the love and prayer that is being extended.  The preparation we are all making for the storm.  Like I said, it is an eerie feeling. 

I stepped outside this morning and just took in a deep breath and said a short prayer, as I looked at the clouds moving across the sky.  I felt the wind and heard the rustling of the leaves.  But there were some familiar sounds that were missing. There was not one bird chirping in the background, no planes flying overhead, no neighborhood construction, no kids playing in their yards, and dogs barking to one another. The sound of cars going to and from their destinations in routine, the cars were still there, but their sounds were more rushed, more hurried and panicked. 

Yesterday, as many of us were, I prepared for this hurricane.  I bought my supplies.  I have washed all that was needed and organized all that I could.  I went to the store, where shelves had no bread, no water.... were there were not enough carts or employees working.  I waited in line for gas wondering if by the time it was my turn would there be still enough for me. 

I am as ready as I can be.

I just wanted to take a moment to extend my thoughts and prayers to all us that are in harms way.  May God have pity on us and protect us from harm.  And to those whose lives are forever changed by this storm.... may they find the strength within to overcome whatever adversity comes their way.  Bless them with the knowledge that this journey is theirs to take.  Let them feel God's comfort and extended arms.  He is our father; trust him to keep us safe.  May God Bless us all.

There is no turning back now: Friday, September 12, 2008  5:25pm                 

All of us are gathered in the living room.  The air has changed some from this morning, yet is relatively the same.  There is laughter now; for family is present.  Aunts and Uncles, Moms and Dads, Children of various ages.  It is almost as if it is a normal family get-together.  The banter, the children running from room to room, the sharing of stories and the playfulness between one another.  Yet, there is something different about this particular Friday afternoon.  For hours now, we have watched on TV, newscaster after newscaster and image after image.  Hurricane Ike is looming in the distance.  We sat watching Galveston get destroyed by waves, one more powerful and devastating than the last.  We watched as areas of Houston started to flood hours before the rain.  Hurricane Ike is huge and is expected to make landfall some time around mid-night.  The Texas sized storm has taken over the Gulf of Mexico. His winds of hurricane force are expanding over 250 miles on either side of the eye.  All we heard was "the worst was yet to come".  I turned my focus away from the television.  I noticed the children.  This is fun to them, as they run up and down the hallway, playing hide and seek.  They are unaware that PJ's, teddy bears, and flashlights are soon to be the agenda.  I pray that we are safe.  I pray that we make it through the night.  I pray that God is with us.

When will it stop? :  Saturday, September 13, 2008    1:45am

The worst part of the storm is now here.  I am the only one up.  There is a candle flickering in the kitchen. The weather is broadcasting from a battery-operated radio sitting on the floor in the middle of the living room.  The house is groaning as the harsh wind has it's way with it.  The windows are rattling.  I am moving family members who fell asleep near windows.  One at a time, I wake them just enough to walk them to a safer place.  It is raining now.  The wind is howling; it is one of the most evil sounds I have ever heard.  I finally lay down in the hall, both arms around each son.  The house is hot.  The worst is here.  I lay there looking at the ceiling, wondering, will it be there in the morning?  After several hours of some of the most frightening sounds, a blanket of silence covers the neighborhood.  The eye of the hurricane is here.  Not a sound can be heard, except for the breaths of those who lay close to my sweating body.  It seems like forever before the silence turns back into the haunting sounds of the storm.  I tell myself, we are half way through.  Just a few more hours..... Just a few more hours.

There are children's voices:  Saturday, September 13, 2008   8:10am

I am still laying in the hall.  Parker starts to move around.  I begin rubbing his back.  He sits up and looks at me with those sleepy eyes.  The wind has gone, but the rain is still here, reminding us of Ike's wrath.  One by one, people start to wake.  I tell my husband that I have to go to sleep.  I was expected at the hotel as soon as the storm had past.  I walk down the hall that was once our place of refuge and turn into my room.  As I lay in my own bed, I thank God that no one got hurt and for keeping us safe.  I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep.  I thought that the worst was over and was thankful.

The day after the storm:  Saturday, September 13, 2008   10:45am

I wake up in a panic....the sun is shinning, the wind has gone, and the sky is green as the rain is still covering all that it can.  I jump out of bed, not knowing the time.  I rush down the hall.  My sister-in-law is nervously packing her family's belongings.  They are headed for Crosby to see how their home faired through the storm.  We say our good-byes and hope for the best.  My husband and his best friend decided to drive my route to work to ensure that there is nothing of severe danger.  They leave and I begin to dress for work.  Wondering how the hotel did.  As I coat my lips with color, the thought of the families, who sought refuge at the Fairfield Inn, crosses my mind.  I pray for them to be safe.  I can only imagine what is in store for me, once I leave the comfort of my home.  Clasping my nametag to my shirt, I hear the front door open.  They have made it back.  My husband warns me of the dangers that I will face.  We exchange a kiss and I step out into the cold rain, not knowing when I will return. 

The roads glisten with water.  I drive slowly; unaware of the utter destruction that surrounds me.  I am focused on the road ahead.  I share the road with just a few, all of us are uncertain of what is in store just a few miles up the street.  The water is rising, the trees lay lifeless on the road, and the rain is still very much in control.  I see a light turn from yellow to red, so I begin to slow the car.  To my surprise, one of the lights is sitting in the middle of the turn lane.  My car pulls up along side of the enormous steel box.  We drive under these lights a hundred times a day - if not once.  You do not realize how massive the stoplights are until one is sitting to your left.  I make my turn and continue my route in to work.  The hours of the day are ticking away, but to my surprise, my day is just about to begin.

The Fairfield Inn:  Saturday, September 13, 2008   1:00pm 

I arrived at the hotel only to see that the storm had taken advantage of the place.  It was dark, dreary, and smelt of mold.  The Front Desk was unorganized and hectic.  The emergency procedures needed to be put into place and I needed to figure out just who was where and what had happened to what.  I spent several hours preparing the office for manual operation.  The beads of sweat drip down my face, my body feels weak, but my spirit is strong.  I know that there are people relying on me.  The employees who had worked the storm head to their rooms for some much needed rest.  I assist to make sure the hotel is operating; that it's heart is still beating.  A few employees are there.  A skeleton crew works to ensure that the evacuees are as comfortable as possible. 

As the hand on the clock stands still, the hours of the day tick away.  The day turns to dusk.  Dusk turns to night.  I stand behind the desk, wet from the air, which was still, muggy, and full of moisture.  The lobby is dark, except the purple haze that surrounds the necks of those who were wearing glow stick necklaces.  A flashlight is seen here and there.  The individuals that are still staying at the hotel gather in the lobby.  The atmosphere is laid back, almost party like, much different than the business suits and corporate duties that fill the halls during normal business.  Laughter fills the air.  Jokes and stories are abundant.  I felt closeness with the staff.  We were in this together, we are resilient, and we will overcome this as a team. 

It was now late into the evening hours and time for me to go home.  Hoping that I did not get in trouble for breaking the city's newly placed curfew, I started my car and cautiously headed home.  The night will be short for my next shift starts at 7:00am.

The hotel is not safe: Sunday, September 14, 2008   7:45am   

I wake up to my youngest child climbing into my bed.  It is light outside.  I jump out of bed and wash up so that I can go to work.  I am late.  No alarm clock sounds to wake us this morning, the power is still out.  I do my best to fix my hair and apply my make-up in the stuffiness that had engulfed my home.  It is raining outside.   I say my good-byes and head for the hotel.  The trip this morning is much different than that of yesterdays.  I could see some of the damage that Ike had left behind.  I could see the signs of businesses laying in parking lots and billboards crumpled up like used tissue.  Electrical wires exposed and dangling in the wind.  The culverts were overflowing and the roads were covered in water.  As I drove towards the hotel, I wondered if I would be able to make it back home.  The city was starting to flood.  The nearby river had its share of water and could not tolerate another drop.  I arrive at work; we are going to evacuate the hotel.  The conditions had deteriorated so much; it was no longer safe for families to stay there.  My heart ached as I saw the despair on the faces of those that we were sending to Red Cross and FEMA shelters.  They were displaced and scared. 

After the last suitcase rolled thought the front door, the few staff members that were there began cleaning what they could.  The hotel had been wounded badly and there was a lot of work to be done.  Seven rooms on the third floor had roof damage, the entire first floor was flooded, the ceiling in the pool-room had caved in, and the west end staircase was collapsing.  The hours were long but the day seemed short.  Around 5pm, I sat across from my boss in the lobby.  We were both exhausted.  Covered in sweat from the suffocating humidity, our bodies lay heavy in the chairs.  Small talk filled the room only to hide the fatigue that was taking its toll on our bodies.  My day was almost over, for this I was thankful.

It has been a few days since Hurricane Ike made it's way through the Houston area.  So many stories and acts of heroism to share.

 We had our power turned back on Tuesday evening around 8:30pm and our water was no longer contaminated as of Wednesday, September 17, 2008.  We are among the handful of citizens who have had these luxuries restored.  As of this morning, Thursday, September 18, 2008, Centerpoint reported the following:

Total number of customers: 2.26 million
Total customers restored: 862,000
Total customers with power: 970,000 (43% of total customers)
Total customers without power: 1.29 million (57% of total customers)