For our first day here in Joplin, we ended up sleeping in until 8 AM. Normally, that in itself would sound pretty awful. Here we are volunteering to help others and we're still abed. Except that the part of sleeping in was getting close to 6 hours of sleep. We checked in at the hotel this AM a little after 2:00. At breakfast, there was a heightened sense of anticipation among my bleary eyed companions and myself. Again, we were all wondering what would things look like. Who would we meet, what will we be doing? We mounted our caravan of vans and trucks and traveled from Pittsburg, KA to Joplin Mo. I totally missed the part where we crossed over into MO. I was staring so intently at the lush green vegetation surrounding us. Wheat crops were golden and waiting to be cut. Corn stalks are almost knee high, bugs smashing, constantly onto the newly cleaned windshield. Ahh to be back in the Midwest. Growing up, my family owned a small farm in Northern Il and I kept having flash backs to the times we spend there during the summer and weekends. It was just like my present surroundings. The other thing I'd forgotten, but was having a chance to re-live was the heat plus humidity. Particularly when you went from an air conditioned car to the outside. Temperatures and humidity levels hovering in the low 90'. As a kid we didn't have central air conditioning. My father used to work some nights during the summer and had a window air conditioning unit.I remember sneaking into his room while he slept, at the height of the afternoon temperatures so I could drape myself over a large overstuffed chair that set right next to the cool air vents. I'd sit there for 20 minutes or so cooling off,developing the fortitude to go back out into the summer heat. When I opened the door, it was like a blast furnace with an invisible barrier of stagnant air and humidity. It was so thick you almost bounced off of it. That's what it was like this morning.
Around 10:00 AM we arrived in Joplin. On the outskirts of town things seemed to be bustling as usual. Traffic was heavy around a variety of strip malls much like you would expect on a busy Monday morning. We drove to Southern Missouri State University. The stadium area has been turned into a large staging area for volunteers. The Volunteers of America had a number of tents set up to register volunteers. We parked our vans and trucks and made our way over to the tents. Because we were so late in arriving there was only a small line of people being processed. It was said that over the weekend there were as many as 5,000 volunteers, but today there was only a fraction of those present based on the number of cars that graced the parking lot. One of the VOA people collected our papers and shuffled us over to another tent. Another person there began to explain the various duties for which we could choose. 1) Debris removal in the field, 2) Sorting and unloading of donated goods at the Salvation Army, 3) Data entry in computers, and answering phones. 1/2 of the group including all of the men from plant services chose option number one, and the rest of us went to the Salvation Army to help out there. I really wanted to help out with debris removal but was willing to put my desires second to what was needed. We drove one of the vans toward the Salvation Army. They have taken over an older building and set it up as a min-grocery in one room and in other rooms set up donations of personal care items, and in a large receiving portion set up donated clothing and shoes. We were assigned tasks of helping to sort donated items, fill orders for people needing things, and helping to take full boxes to people's cars. All day as we sorted and distributed donated items, it felt as if we were at the ocean. Tides of people would come in and go out. Sometimes there would be momentary lulls and other times backlogs of people patiently waiting for things. It was during those times that stories began to emerge. Volunteers from various parts of the country were present doing what they could for others because they felt compelled to help. We were from Denver, others from Omaha, Peoria, Southern California, and even Joplin. Then the stories from those picking up the donated items: they were there to help their neighbors who lost everything, an older woman who was living by herself in a small home now has an additional 6 family members living with her as they lost their home. Two women who were laid off from their jobs today and did not anticipate returning for another 6 weeks at a minimum. The woman who lost two of her teen-aged grandchildren. On and on the snippets of stories we heard as we stocked and re-stocked.
It was both a humbling and awe inspiring day. So much generosity poured out from American households across the nation. Tubs and tubs of personal care items such as soap, shampoo, toothbrushes, floss. All kinds of donated canned goods. People would walk into the store front and stop and stare. It was as if the site of so much activity overwhelmed and inundated their senses. One young couple with their baby were confused as to whether or not things were being sold or donated. It was if they had no idea where to begin. I think about the number of times I've taken the time to write a shopping list, get to the store and find out I left the list at home. Even though I try to re-create the list in my head, invariably I always seem to forget something. I can't even begin to imagine how one would even come close to remembering everything they would need for their family after everything they had was blown away. What does one do if their cookbook is gone to remind them about the ingredients for something they're making? There are virtually no pots/pans in Joplin. Can openers are at a premium. One woman only wanted cans with pop top lids because she's living in a motel with a microwave. The "little" things I take for granted about living my own comfortable life. As I helped people with their items, a mother would ask for diapers and I'd say "do you need diaper wipes as well? Of course she did, but how can one remember that with all of the other things they're struggling to remember? Another woman came in and became immobile. After weeks of holding things together, the reality of the situation overwhelmed her. At first she only wanted a few things and then she realized she need more than that. As she became aware of the enormity of her situation you could see the weight of responsibility she'd been holding on to for so long begin to crumble around her. Fortunately, the volunteers helping to run the Salvation Army were compassionate and understanding individuals who could step in and help her make her selections.
After 6 hours of sorting we were able to take a tour of what used to be the central part of Joplin. A once vibrant community of comfortable older homes, a large community hospital, thriving businesses were all demolished in a matter of moments. What mystifies me is how an entire house with all of its household contents can be so completely obliterated into a pile of unrecognizable trash. There is little transition from the area surrounding where the tornado struck to the area impacted the greatest. The devastation is at least 1/2 mile wide. At the end of our tour we reconvened with our other team members. They shared their debris clean up stories of finding a wedding dress, still partially in its box. Lose pictures belonging to someone. As they shift through the debris, any household items that appear recoverable are placed on the homeowners front porch, or what's left of it. Many homes were leveled right down to the foundation. If a wall was standing there didn't appear to be a rhyme or reason why as the other 3 walls were knocked flat. In one instance someone's closet remained intact with clothes still hanging neatly from the rod while everything else was completely gone. As we drove by, one couple was standing at their kitchen counter, leaning on it surveying the damage. It was as if we were observing them in their daily private life, through a home with glass walls. I wondered, what could this couple be discussing? Do we re-build? Where do you think the refrigerator is? How are we going to survive this, everything is gone including the car.
By the time we passed St. John's hospital no one in the van was speaking any longer. This large community hospital was a shell of what it used to be. The area around it is cordoned off. MASH type tents are set up in the parking lot to provide care. Before we left the hotel this morning we had heard that 3 more people fell victim to this deadly storm. As I surveyed the damage, it was amazing to me that only 300 died as opposed to much larger numbers. Of course the heartbreaking news is that there are still over 100 unaccounted for.
For the final part of our day's events we drove back across the state line to Columbus, Kansas. We are staying with a variety of host families who are giving us bed and board. They keep saying thank you, and really it is our thanks to give. Before we left Denver, I couldn't imagine not being involved in some way. Complacency becomes a way of life. Yes we struggle with the day to day challenges that life gives us. But the priorities can shift so dramatically. One day you can be inconvenienced because you forgot to pick something up at the store. The next day, everything is gone, including the store you shopped at. Gratefulness shifts to things like, we only lost part of our roof but our neighbors lost their whole house. Or we lost everything we owned but at least no one was hurt. When I see and hear these humbling acts of gratefulness I find myself saying, please don't thank me. The very least of what I can do is to serve you. I can return back to the comforts of my home and I can go on with my life. Life for these people is beginning anew, in ways they never imagined. I wonder, how would I react if this were now my life?
No comments:
Post a Comment