Five Days After!

     It's Friday, May 27....five days after the tornado hit Joplin, MO.  They say over 8000 homes are gone.  They say it's six miles long and anywhere from a half a mile to a mile wide.  As I'm driving to Joplin I can't even begin to comprhend a path that wide.  I've seen the aftermath of tornados before, but nothing prepared me for the onslaught of destruction my eyes took in upon driving into the path of the tornado this morning.  The trip through it left me raw.
     I feel as if I am driving through a war zone.
     I got lost. How disconcerting.  I've driven the streets of Joplin more times than I can count, and I have no idea where I am.  All landmarks are gone, obliverated.  There are literally blocks and blocks of rubble.  If there are trees standing they are often completely naked, as if someone ripped off all of the branches and then peeled the bark off until only the white core of the tree is exposed.  It's frightening.  Cars some mashed beyond recogniction have been tossed to a fro as if dumped on the ground by a petulent child.  Concrete and brick bulidings look like piles of Legos.  Even worse are the faces of the survivors...exhuastion is etched upon them.  I later learned that many have had their homes condemed and there is precious little time to recover what pitifully small amounts of belongings they can find.  Tears sprung to my eyes as I watched a young couple drive by on their four wheeler with a small box placed between them.  The woman was weeping - I imagine that box was all   that was left of life as they knew it.

     And so my journey begins. 
     After making my way through the path of destruction, I arrived at College Heights Christian Church.  I had no idea what I was going to do, how to do it or even where I would sleep.  I was just there.  The parking lots were packed.  There were literally thousands of people coming and going. There were semis in the back parking lots and massive qauantities of supplies everywhere.  As I walked down the sidewalk to the atrium of the church I felt as if I were walking through the parting of the Red Sea - the pallets of bottled water were eye high and a hundred yards long.  It was a pretty impressive operation considering they had only been up and running for a couple of days.

    I was met at the front door by smiling volunteers who directed me to a place I could help - the PSA station.  Seems I was to be a personal shopping assistant.  College Heights had set up a distribution system for anything from food to cleaning supplies to baby formula, basically anything (small) needed to set up house.  I didn't know shopping could be so much fun or so heartbreaking.

Carts were gven to the church to use by several different businesses in town.

    I had the opportunity to meet and serve several famlies.  All were poliet; all were grateful, and all had lost nearly everything.  Here's just a couple of their stories.
     One lady was living with another fmaily after her apartment complex had been deemed unlivable - there were ten in this household.  Another lady came in with her elevn year old daughter, not to shop for themselves, but for three men who had lost their homes.  Another couple whom were a joy to serve, had quite different ways of dealing with this tragedy.  The gentleman was smiling and conversational, while the lady was all business and was concerned about how to best care for her family.  It seems we all deal with loss in very different ways; however, one family sticks in my mind.
     Jill has three beautiful children ranging in age from elementary to high school.  Her oldest son was in Kansas when the tornado hit; however, Jill and her youngest two were just stiing down to the table to eat the kids' favorite meal - Ravioli.  They never had the chance to eat it; instead, they found themselves cowering in a closet trying desperately to survive the tornado as the winds and suction of the storm literally ripped their home apart.  Jill did what any mom would do.  She had a vice grip on her children and shielded their precious little bodies from the onslaugh of flying debris with her own body.  They survived, and Jill bears the bruises and wound - a large gash on her upper thigh which went nearly to the bone - to prove it.  She wears the pain as a badge of courange, and she does it with a smile.  Jill told me that while her home was a total loss, her body beaten, and her children traumatized that God is good and He was the only reason they were alive. 
     Me - I just shake my head at it all...the massive inpouring of money and supplies...the thousands of volunteers...the incomprehensible destruction...the smiles and gratefulness of survivors in the aftermath of horror...and the grace of God.  I'm writing this as I sit at a desk in a dorm room at Ozark Christian College where twenty years ago I sat as a know-it-all seventeen year old kid.  I now realize I didn't know anything.  I didn't even have an inkling.  I write and I weep.  I weep for in a day I have gained more understanding and have been more blessed than I ever thought possible.  I weep for the families I have served.  I weep because of the vast amount of destruction I viewed.   I weep because...because my heart is changing and that is a good thing.