Amid the desolation, a day of thanks

NEW ORLEANS -- On the seventh day, after a week of unthinkable death and biblical destruction, many survivors in this tomb-like city said that despite what Katrina wrought they no longer look skyward for dark signs of trouble, but for the light of hope.

On some other brilliant, sultry September on Sunday, the handsome mall in front of St. Louis Cathedral, the iconic Catholic church in this city of churches, would be lively with artists, tarot readers, and jazz musicians playing for spare change.

Yesterday, as military helicopters hovered overhead and National Guard troops armed with M-16s guarded street corners, it was deserted and strewn with debris. But nearby police and residents who swept up shards of glass and began unboarding windows said they did not need the quiet of a church to count their blessings.

''I'm sitting here just thanking God we made it out alive," said Lisa Dugas, 42, whose home remained in 12 feet of water as she waited to board a bus for Baton Rouge. ''We prayed a lot, and I thank God for saving our lives."

Dugas, who lost everything, rode a plywood raft out of her neighborhood and spent the rest of the week in a nearby shelter before finally being bused out of town about noon yesterday.

Across the street, at a battered hotel the city police are using as a command center, officers and staff members exchanged hugs and wiped away tears after the chief told them the department's well-regarded public information officer, Paul Accardo, had killed himself. The suicide was the second since the hurricane for the stretched department, which had some officers quit last week.

''For me, this is the ultimate test of faith," said Lieutenant Christy Williams. ''This is a moment when you stand for what you believe in, or you run. I have to stand for what I believe in. I think the survivors are being tested. The rescuers are being tested, and the poor people who died went to where God took them."

Lieutenant Julie Wilson, who joined the department 25 years ago, said that for three days after the storm, she was unsure where her 11-year-old son was. She and her husband, also a police officer, remained at their posts.

''My son told me he thought we both died," she said. ''Once I knew my son was safe, I could go on."

Wilson said she attended church services in Baton Rouge on Saturday night, returning with a bottle of holy water. She said she was not surprised when many hardened police veterans blessed themselves with it.

While some shook their fists in anger and others sought the solace of their spirituality, many said Katrina's fury was a reminder that life below sea level on the edge of a mighty river and a huge lake can be treacherous.

''It was an awesome force of nature," said Paul Caporusso, 56, who lives in nearby Kenner and rode out the storm with a friend in the French Quarter. ''And it shows that if anyone had any delusions that we're in control in this life, they should just be slapped silly."

Nearby, Saul Berman, a 47-year-old businessman who was checking his inventory on St. Charles Street, said he is reserving his anger and frustration for the federal officials, who, he said, were too sluggish in their response.

''To have to wait four or five days is unimaginable," said Berman, who makes decorative copper lanterns. ''It makes you sick. But this is something that is part of the biosphere. This is God's planet. This is his nature."

From a balcony overlooking the French Quarter, when Caporusso looked heavenward, he saw something that, while man-made, he considered divine. ''We've traded the noise of the automobile and the bump-bump-bump of jazz to the drone of helicopters. And we welcome that drone," he said.

Thomas Farragher can be reached at farragher@globe.com.