Editor’s note: Martha H. Fitzgerald is one of four Gannett news staffers on loan to The Daily News in St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands, in the aftermath of Hurricane Marilyn.

ST. THOMAS, U.S. VIRGIN ISLANDS — “How did Marilyn treat you?”

“I am blessed.”

“Three windows broken, some damage to spouting and gutters. I thank God for the good treatment he has given me.”

“Thank God for life.”

Virgin Islands residents were gathered on the steps outside St. Peter and Paul Cathedral in Charlotte Amalie, the territorial capital and deep-water port for the island of St. Thomas. They had just walked out of noon-time services a week ago today. It was Hurricane Thanksgiving Day, a local religious holiday marking the end of the hurricane season.

During the Mass of Thanksgiving, in a downtown church with doors and stained-glass windows thrown open for light and air, the sacristan recounted the night of Sept. 15-16.

The unexpected fury of a storm billed as only a Category 2 hurricane. The hurried preparations. Makeshift shelters under mattresses and tables. Wind building to a roar. Metal roofs tearing away. Breaking glass. Finally, winds dying down, the long night ending, and the sun coming up.

All around was twisted metal, snapped wires and holes in walls.

Twenty-five percent of the buildings were destroyed, and another 55 percent damaged.

In this land of eternal green, bushes and trees were brown stalks, stripped of leaves by winds of up to 130 mph. But they had survived.

“Our sigh of relief,” the sacristan said, “was a prayer of thanksgiving.”

“Thank God for life” chorused the congregation of about 200 parishioners and visiting relief workers.

Only seven died in Marilyn, members of the boating community who tried to ride out the storm.

Hurricanes here seem to be a reminder that paradise on earth has its price. Since 1526, nearly 50 hurricanes have been recorded.

Memories of 1989’s savage Hugo hadn’t yet faded late this summer when Iris just missed the Virgin Islands, and Luis grazed them.

Then days later, Marilyn slammed ashore on St. Thomas, dealing St. John and St. Croix lesser blows.

Five weeks later, nature and the resilient human will are at work, breathing new life into St. Thomas.

With the emergency phase of recovery ending, shelters and food distribution centers are closing. National Guard and U.S. Army units, here to keep order and direct traffic, are breaking camp.

Equally importantly, in a land where 95 percent of the revenues are from tourism, the beaches are clean and awaiting guests, and import shops selling Nicole Miller ties and Royal Copenhagen china are open for business. The first cruise ship in weeks on St. Thomas is expected to dock Thursday.

Most St. Thomas residents still operate by candles or flashlight after dark. It will be months before power is fully restored and they can enjoy a home-cooked meal or drink from the tap. But there’s fresh food to eat and a blue tarpaulin to keep the rain off. God is good.