MAKING MY PEACE … with natural disasters
… finding hope and renewal after disaster …
After a natural disaster, a flood, a fire, an earthquake – even a heartbreak –healing seems distant, but eventually it always arrives. Inspired by Liberian poet Patricia Jabbeh Wesley’s “Healing Will Come: Elegy after Natural Disaster,” I explore the stages of healing after natural disasters and personal loss, offering reflections from my 35+ years in humanitarian work, including in Liberia, and practical ways to nurture hope, even in life’s hardest times.
“Healing Will Come: Elegy after Natural Disaster”
Patricia Jabbeh Wesley, Liberia
Somewhere, always, somewhere,
There’s a day when healing comes.
Wasn’t this what life was supposed to bring,
After death, the healing?
Healing refuses to be lost to death,
I say, healing will come.
Patricia Jabbeh Wesley’s lines capture something profound about human endurance: that even in the ruins, something tender will grow.
When I first read “Healing Will Come: Elegy after Natural Disaster,” I paused at her simple insistence:
Somewhere, always, somewhere,
There’s a day when healing comes.
In just a few lines, she gives voice to the resilience beneath grief, that no matter the devastation, healing will find its way back through the cracks.
I remember witnessing that same resilience during my humanitarian work in Liberia. After floods, communities gathered together again, telling stories, cooking together, singing as the sun went down. Healing didn’t announce itself; it simply began. That was the first sign of healing: the return of individual stories, of connections shared during collective emotions.
Healing in the short term
In the immediate aftermath of disaster, healing often looks nothing like serenity. It looks like survival: the daily tending to wounds, the gathering of supplies, the steadying of one another – leaning on each other in solidarity. It’s the body remembering what it means to be alive, even when the heart is shattered. In those moments, “healing refuses to be lost to death,” as Wesley writes.
Healing in the medium term
As the dust begins to settle, the human spirit begins to reach outward again. We rebuild, not just structures, but routines and relationships. In Liberia, I saw communities plant gardens where floodwaters had stood; green defiance sprouting from the mud. Healing here means reclaiming joy in small, persistent ways.
Healing in the long term
True healing is rarely quick; it stretches over seasons and sometimes generations. For me, it meant recognizing that recovery is not a return to “before” but a renewal into something more compassionate. Working in humanitarian response taught me that resilience is not the absence of pain; it’s the courage to live fully with it and alongside it.
Somewhere, always, somewhere, healing comes; not as a miracle, but as a return of trust in life itself. Healing will come, not as a single moment of triumph, but as a thousand small mercies: a friend’s voice, the courage to begin again, the certainty that there will be light after the darkness.
If you are in your own aftermath — after loss, illness, heartbreak, or natural disaster — remember that you are not alone and healing is already on its way. Even if unseen, it is gathering itself in you, waiting for its day to emerge.
Healing refuses to be lost to death,
I say, healing will come.
***
Making my peace with natural disasters, I do the following:
Breathe: Short-term healing is about survival and stabilization. In the early days after any natural disaster — or emotional one — healing means remembering to breathe, to reach out to others similarly affected, and to accept help from others. During my work in post-disaster Liberia, this was the phase where people leaned on one another the most. It represented a shared humanity that said, “we are still here.”
Exercise 1: Grounding in Safety
Sit quietly and name 5 things that feel stable around you right now.
Breathe slowly, acknowledging each intake of breath as proof of your presence.
End by saying to yourself: “I am still here, and that is enough for now.”
Reconnect: Medium-term healing is about rebuilding and reconnecting. As time passes, rebuilding of trust and belonging begins. In Liberia, I watched families plant gardens in the very soil that floods had destroyed – and post-conflict too, truth and reconciliation was a major part of reconnecting. Growth became an act of defiance, and a reclaiming of life and dignity.
Exercise 2: Rebuilding Rituals
Choose one small daily ritual that brings calm (watering a plant, lighting a candle, journaling, etc.).
Repeat it at the same time each day for seven days (and beyond).
Let that ritual become your personal “seed of continuity.”
Transform: Long-term healing is about integration and renewal. Long-term healing isn’t about returning to what was lost or what was “before.” It’s about transforming pain into wisdom or creativity or community development or other form of healing. For me, years after leaving Liberia, I realized that the people I met had taught me a new definition of strength: “resilience as tenderness.” To heal is not to harden the heart, but to open it again: carefully, fully, and bravely.
Exercise 3: Mapping the Renewal
On paper, draw (at least) three concentric circles labelled “Past” “Present” and “Becoming.”
In a circle for each activity, write what has stayed, what has changed, and what you’re ready to invite in.
Reflect on what part of the body, mind, or spirit is still healing, and what part is already renewed?
***
Rainy Day Healing blogs: “This kind of quiet, honest reflection is exactly what makes Rainy Day Healing such a special space.” Chaz. T., USA
In a world of sensory overload, Tranquility Mapping offers a gentle, creative way to reconnect with peace and calm, and recreate restorative spaces. Whether you’re seeking stillness in a busy home, serenity in a classroom, or relief in a hectic office, this guide gives you the tools to map and reshape your environment to support your well-being. Whether you have a garden, one room or an entire building to work with, this guide helps you transform your everyday spaces into sanctuaries of stillness.
Includes: Tranquility Mapping templates and examples (for home, classroom, school, and office); A Tranquility Toolkit checklist (sound, scent, sight, and texture tools); A teacher’s guide to mapping calm with students; A list of workshop questions and techniques for working with groups; Real-life inspiration based on research on peace and tranquility.
Ideal for: Anyone seeking a sensory-friendly space and a place of quietude; Teachers and educators designing calm corners for students in classrooms and learning spaces; Families, parents, and caregivers wanting to create calm for children, seniors, and all members; Therapists, coaches, and wellness professionals; Human resource personnel, office planners, and office workers reclaiming restorative spaces.
Map your way back to tranquility. Map emotional geography in real life. Feel the benefits of restorative spaces. If you have a notebook, blank paper, pencils, crayons or highlighters, and optional stickers and sticky notes, you can begin. You don’t have to wait for peace to find you. You can find it, design it, and return to it anytime. You can design the tranquility you want to feel.
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