"Let that love be your Road map and lead you down the road." We each have a story to tell.

After the Tsunami a digital camera was a sure way to find the children's lost smiles.

We each have a story to tell.

“Love everybody, all the time, in front of God.” translated into Dinka sounds this way; Nyan Niarraan even. Akol riec even. Nhialic Nhom. The simple yet profound message is in a song written by Country singer Big Kenny and taught to the Dinka people on Kenny's recent trip with Liz Walker to Sudan. The message expresses the spirit of our journeys to purpose. These journeys are inspired by the circumstances of others and the expression of our gifts.

Telling My Story

The morning after Christmas in 2004, I woke up with a plan to ride my bicycle down the dirt road and take a walk on the beach. I was in Southern India. It was a dream come true to return to visit Auroville, a small international city with people from 35 nations. For days prior we were awakened at 3:30 a.m by the insistent blare of loud music from behind our guest house. The microphones and speakers were calling the Tamils from the villages all around to work and prayer.

At breakfast with my friends, before I got on my bike, we heard that there were rooms in another guest house on a hill that was away from the noisy din. We postponed our beach plans and jumped at the chance to change locations. I remembered, as I moved my suit case, twenty five years before when I first stayed on that hill that I could look down at the Bay of Bengal and the Indian Ocean. In the 25 years since my last visit the trees had grown so tall and thick I could not see the darkening sky or the angry sea. We had no idea that as we wheeled our belongings to our new rooms the waves just below the tree line raged against our shores.

On December 26, 2004, the Tsunami rocked the world. Within hours 225,000 people were dead in eleven countries. It was the largest earthquake ever recorded. There were two waves. Everyone on the beach thought the first huge wave was a fluke. It came way up on the land capturing everything in its path and went out just as suddenly. When the swell subsided, it created the illusion of a shore line miles out from the actual beach. Fish were jumping on the sands.

Villagers, thinking there was only one wave, ran into the unexpected second while they gathered the fish. This wave, more violent and faster than the first, did not stop at the same boundary and destroyed everything in its path. On the Indian mainland, more than 8,800 people were confirmed dead with thousands more still missing. Many people were injured and in shock. The frantic search for lost loved ones began. Bearing witness to the untenable realities of the ravaging of nature changed our lives forever.

Initially, with no electricity, cell phones or computers we believed the rumors that a bomb had been dropped in the middle of the ocean. Our terrified families back in the United States knew more from the television reports about what had caused this disaster than we did. They tried unsuccessfully to reach us.

As soon as the water subsided and the roads cleared for cars we went to the shores to check on our friends in beach villages. Stunned villagers and animals walked dazed on the tree strewn sides of the roads. Pavement ripped like paper laid on the side of the road. Our immediate shocked reaction was to do what we could. We raked mud, hauled water, gathered filthy clothes from the bushes to wash, collected tattered family photos and children’s toys from the tops of water shredded trees. The next days we set up tents for shelter, tried to place lost children, distributed blankets and limited but dry bedding.

I could not bear the suffering. We cried, we prayed, we listened to the voices of trauma and loss. There was something deeply disconcerting about being safe with only the inconvenience of no water or power while tragedy was all around me. I knew I had to do something more.

Children, newly sheltered in tents and taken into the homes of families left intact, screamed all night. As a certified coach with years of experience I had training in stress and trauma. There were no counselors or therapists and few medical people. Nothing could have prepared me for this.

I could not leave what I had seen. My return ticket date expired. I stayed to work with traumatized mothers and their children. These children grew up on the ocean and could not imagine returning. They would wake up in the night crying “ sharks, sharks!” and their mothers and fathers, in shock themselves, were unable to understand or to console them.

In the next days we held and calmed the children, and gave them toys, crayons and paper. Reopening makeshift schools we brought their friends together to see that they were alive and well. Seeing their friends for the first time they laughed the laughter of children who were finally beginning to feel safe. They started to tell their stories. They thought the big shards of broken glass, carried by the force of the flooding water, were sharks crashing through their windows and doors. While the elders frantically swam them to safety, the glass cut them. Sharks were all they could imagine. Telling their stories they began the long journey to healing.

A man who has become my dear friend, a 6’2” tourist from Belgium, was sleeping in a cabana on the beach. The wave tore the roof from his hut and threw him from his mattress. He hung on to life from the branch of a palm tree. The water subsided. He let go and dropped to earth unscathed. Looking vacant and lost we sat under the banyan tree and he began to tell me his story.

There is a healing power in telling our stories. There is also healing for all of us who have the honor of silently listening without trying to fix or to change. We bear witness compassionately and become healers.

We all have amazing experiences and stories to tell. Liz, Gloria and I were on roads with no Road Maps. We heard a call in a way that we could not even begin to know would set our paths to purpose. We never knew who we would meet on our road and from that experience, how we would all come to the same place not long after, giving our gifts and our skills to make a difference.

We share the vision that we might inspire others to find their own path and purpose. One thing that I know for sure is that expressing your gifts and skills in the world is healing. Sharing your story heals and inspires other people.

Maya Balle, MCC, CPCC c)2008