It was Christmas, a little more than two months after Hurricane Andrew the storm that had devastated more than just homes. It had changed lives—my life and the lives of so many others. What follows is a moment from my journal, written during those trying times:
…The wind blew across the bay, across the land, through my house, and through my heart. It blew away all the tress, all the roofs, everything I owned, everything I knew, and a family with a way of life I knew for 23 years. In the morning when the wind stopped blowing, the only thing still standing was me.
I was one of the lucky ones. I had a place to go—a small house filled with forgotten antiques. It didn’t have a kitchen and no hot water, but it was a shelter. Two old televisions sat in one corner, one with sound but no picture, and the other with a picture but no sound. If I squinted at the glowing screen of one while listening to the crackling audio of the other, together they kept me entertained at night.
I lay on a mattress on the floor, the weight of the past weeks pressing down on me, unsure of what the future held, unable to imagine joy in the face of so much hardship. In the corner of the room stood an old, rusty candelabra, its wrought-iron curves dulled by time and neglect. I had spent many nights staring at its quiet, staunch presence, but on this night, it appeared different.
I couldn’t find a tree that year—not that I could afford one nor would I have had room for it, but the candelabra seemed to call out, and I took its inspiration by stringing lights along its rusted arms and hung what decorations I could find, turning it into my Christmas tree.
One evening, as I stared at my makeshift tree, an epiphany came over me—a realization . Unlike a tree that would eventually wither and fade, this candelabra was iron strong. It had endured years of wear, and now, even in its rusty state, it still stood tall. It became a symbol for me: endurance, resilience, and the beauty of transformation.
That Christmas, despite the tragedy of the storm, I learned to see life differently. That candelabra became my light, a testament to strength and renewal, —a quiet rebellion against despair. Every year since, I think of it looking at this image. It has become to me a beacon for all those who stand and endure hardship, and who emerge anew.
May its light find you, too. Merry Christmas.
MattPacePhoto 