Sometimes God prepares us for what is about to happen. It may not take the shock completely away, but it still may help. This is one of the toughest, yet most comforting lessons I have learned in my first 30 years.
In April 2008, I made my first trip to New Orleans in over a year. I went primarily to see Birdie, but I was happy to see everyone. One Tuesday which was usually boy's night, I was catching up with Malcolm when Guy called Malcolm to give him a ride home. I said they could use my car, but I was riding along too. When we picked Guy up, I said, and not jokingly, that he was acting as if someone was going to shoot at him while walking up to my car. Unnerving to say the least. When we dropped him off, he thanked me, and I told him he was welcome to a ride anytime. He said, "no, thank you for everything." I remember telling Jennifer that he acted like he was about to die. It bothered me.
The next day was Guy's birthday and he stopped by the Center. I wasn't used to him stopping by just to hang out, but he stayed talking with me and some others for around an hour. Again I could not help but think he was acting like someone who thought he was about to die. I also felt like he had just seen his last birthday. That day was one of the best days I have had in New Orleans since the hurricane, and I am glad God gave me that day.
I was leaving to go home on April 17. Birdie needed a ride so I dropped him off at a friend's house right before I was to leave. Guy was there. Guy told me bye. Guy never said goodbye - ever. I could not bring myself to tell him bye because there was an overwhelming feeling that this was the last time I would see him alive. I even told Jennifer that I was afraid the next time I would come in would be for his funeral. I even told Birdie I was worried about Guy. I started home about 2. Guy was shot and killed around 5. I received the phone call at 5:24.
Although there was plenty of shock, I believe that God was preparing us for what was about to happen. It did not make the hurt less although it may have made the hurt bearable. There was comfort in knowing that God sometimes gives us warnings so that we can bear what is coming. I as the outsider coming in noticed the way Guy was acting more than those close to him probably would have. I am just glad I had time with Guy that week and with everyone else.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
Countdown to 30: Day 5
From August 2007 until October 2008, it seems that my life was filled with dealing with death. I went to just a few less funerals during that time than I had been to in my whole life up to that point. However, when you are faced with death, you learn quite a bit about life.
In August 2007, my second mother died. Ms. Brenda had been my second mother from before I was born. She was a constant in my life. When it would storm when we were kids, we would head to Ms. Brenda's house. Many days were spent watching her son and my dad play video games. She was always at our birthday parties, and always "lost" our Christmas presents. When we moved to Ft. Worth, it was always her house that we returned to when we came home to Texarkana. Although she did not come to my high school graduation, she was there for college and law school graduation and watched me get my law license in Austin. She kept Texarkana people updated on my progress and kept my family informed of all of the Wake Village news.
During the summer of 2007, Ms. Brenda went to Houston to see family she had not seen in years. She went to see her daughter, which was usually reserved for Thanksgiving and Christmas. She stopped by my parents house on her way back. My mom came in the weekend of her birthday. Many of the babies that she had brought up in the nursery came in to visit that summer and saw her. She worked the church directory photo night on Monday and saw many friends. I had lunch with her on Tuesday. On Thursday I had a phone call that she had died suddenly. Even though it was tough to deal with, I immediately saw God's grace in her death. She had been able to tell many people that she cared about and did not see often goodbye. She died suddenly instead of after a long illness, and had been doing what she loved right before she died - taking care of a baby.
Ms. Brenda was a staple in the nursery at First Baptist Church Wake Village, where I was enrolled on the cradle roll. For 30+ years she was faithful to sit in her rocking chair and take care of babies. She was overjoyed to be caring for the babies of babies she had when she first started working in the nursery. For 30+ years the church did not have to worry about who would work with the babies in the nursery because there was never a question. It would be Ms. Brenda. She did not stop caring for the babies once they were no longer babies though. She always wanted to know what was going with her babies, and she was always overjoyed if one of her babies returned to Texarkana as an adult. Anyone with big news was expected to stop by the nursery and inform Ms. Brenda!
There is something really beautiful about a servant of God dying. After years of serving, Ms. Brenda entered into the rest of God. She was able to see the face of the One whose love she had been showing for so many years. Although she is missed terribly, especially in the preschool building, there is the hope of seeing her again along with many other faithful servants who have gone on to eternal rest. After seeing Jesus in the faces of many babies, she is seeing Him face to face. Because of that, there is reason to rejoice!
In August 2007, my second mother died. Ms. Brenda had been my second mother from before I was born. She was a constant in my life. When it would storm when we were kids, we would head to Ms. Brenda's house. Many days were spent watching her son and my dad play video games. She was always at our birthday parties, and always "lost" our Christmas presents. When we moved to Ft. Worth, it was always her house that we returned to when we came home to Texarkana. Although she did not come to my high school graduation, she was there for college and law school graduation and watched me get my law license in Austin. She kept Texarkana people updated on my progress and kept my family informed of all of the Wake Village news.
During the summer of 2007, Ms. Brenda went to Houston to see family she had not seen in years. She went to see her daughter, which was usually reserved for Thanksgiving and Christmas. She stopped by my parents house on her way back. My mom came in the weekend of her birthday. Many of the babies that she had brought up in the nursery came in to visit that summer and saw her. She worked the church directory photo night on Monday and saw many friends. I had lunch with her on Tuesday. On Thursday I had a phone call that she had died suddenly. Even though it was tough to deal with, I immediately saw God's grace in her death. She had been able to tell many people that she cared about and did not see often goodbye. She died suddenly instead of after a long illness, and had been doing what she loved right before she died - taking care of a baby.
Ms. Brenda was a staple in the nursery at First Baptist Church Wake Village, where I was enrolled on the cradle roll. For 30+ years she was faithful to sit in her rocking chair and take care of babies. She was overjoyed to be caring for the babies of babies she had when she first started working in the nursery. For 30+ years the church did not have to worry about who would work with the babies in the nursery because there was never a question. It would be Ms. Brenda. She did not stop caring for the babies once they were no longer babies though. She always wanted to know what was going with her babies, and she was always overjoyed if one of her babies returned to Texarkana as an adult. Anyone with big news was expected to stop by the nursery and inform Ms. Brenda!
There is something really beautiful about a servant of God dying. After years of serving, Ms. Brenda entered into the rest of God. She was able to see the face of the One whose love she had been showing for so many years. Although she is missed terribly, especially in the preschool building, there is the hope of seeing her again along with many other faithful servants who have gone on to eternal rest. After seeing Jesus in the faces of many babies, she is seeing Him face to face. Because of that, there is reason to rejoice!
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Countdown to 30: Day 6
My milestone for today is a rite of passage for lawyers - the first jury trial! It is another topic that I have covered as extensively as I should, so it is another link day. Looking back on the first jury trial now, I still cannot believe that I have conducted a trial from start to finish. I pretty much ran the entire case from start to finish, so even on short notice, I could do the trial by myself. I think that it was a good thing that I did not have much time to get worked up over it, and it is a pretty good feeling to wake up the next morning and realize it is over. That night I think I was still in a little bit of shell shock. It is also comforting to know that my Baylor education did not go to waste and I was able to prepare for trial on short notice.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Countdown to 30: Day 7
Last year was all about life and death for me, and the happiest day of the year was definitely when Verchaun Guy was born. He is my little guy! Since I already covered his birth, I am reposting the event for one of my favorite memories in my first thirty years of life. You can find the story here.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Countdown to 30: Day 8
I have been going to Carver Baptist Center in New Orleans for eight years, and, as anyone who has known me for any length of time or has been to my office to see the pictures everywhere (or has read this series), there is a particular relationship that has meant more to me than probably any other friendship in my life. Of course I am talking about my boy, Birdie.
The funny thing about Birdie is that I do not remember meeting him. I am not even sure that he remembers meeting me. I do know that the second spring break that our college group went to the Center in 2002, he and his cousin were locked out of the house accidentally and were asleep on one of the couches downstairs when we arrived. I do not remember that, but he does. I even have a picture or two from that trip where you can see him in the background, but I do not think that I talked to him or knew who he was at that point. When I went back that summer for the month of July, we started getting close. In fact it was nothing unusual for me to have Birdie, Malcolm and Fred with me going everywhere. Plus Birdie was responsible for watching his nephew Coy who was almost two at the time, which meant that I watched Coy while Birdie played basketball.
We really started to click in 2003. Birdie got himself into some minor trouble while on an outing with the missionary at the Center. I noticed tension between the two, so I put extra effort that week into spending time with Birdie. He went everywhere with me (except the beach - he was temporarily banned from Center activities), and I played basketball with him for hours (resulting in a purple - yes purple - sunburn that made him concerned enough to stop the game and make me go inside to cool off and down a ton of water). I literally tortured him to make him tell me what he had done to get into trouble. I think I may have locked him in a room (favorite tactic of mine with the kids) and grilled him continuously for half a day before he revealed what he had done. Instead of instantly lecturing him, I acted completely out of character and told him I was proud of him for telling me himself instead of waiting until someone else told me. The lecture came later in the form of a very long letter that I sent to him and that he actually read and remembers to this day. From that point forward, there was no way to convince either one of us that we were not brother and sister, although he still didn't like for me to hug him in front of friends.
The dislike of public hugging went out the window in 2005 with Katrina hitting. As soon as I saw him the first time after Katrina, I received one of the biggest hugs, and in front of his whole family, that I think I have ever received from Birdie. Katrina is also when his mother started claiming me as her other daughter and his siblings started calling me their white sister. I became part of the extended family during that time, and I think that quite a few members of his extended family still claim me today. Our relationship had a strange period during 2006 and 2007 because I knew he was doing things he should not be doing, but I was still loving on my little brother. Plus he was arrested, and I had to lecture him. I lectured him on the phone. I lectured him in person. I lectured him over the phone some more. He did not seem to be listening, and I was frustrated. 2007 ended up being a year when I could only make one trip to New Orleans in the spring, and I actually went over a year without seeing him. I am not sure how I ever survived that long!
In January 2008, one of Birdie's good friends was shot and killed. Fortunately Birdie was not at the scene that night, although I do not think that he sees it that way. When I found out about it, I procrastinated in calling Birdie because I did not know how to deal with things like that over the phone, and I knew I could not make it down there to see him in person to go to the funeral. On the morning of the funeral, I sent him a text message to let him know I was thinking about him (cowardly, I know!), and soon my phone was ringing. It was so good to hear his voice on the other end, but I was glad I did not contact him earlier or my butt would have been driving to New Orleans! I had no idea that I would have my chance to be there for him after the death of a friend just a few months later. All I knew as I hung up is that I loved that kid and I had to see him soon.
Soon did not come soon enough. New Orleans has this cool website where you can follow court dates of those awaiting trial, and I knew he had a trial date coming up. I knew I wanted to be there for him for his trial date, so I kept up with it. It kept getting pushed, but finally a date was set for April 15. I called his sister (because he did not return my call) to find out if it was set to go, and I found out that his family knew nothing about the date coming up. Nice. Soon he was on the phone with me telling me that I did not have to come, but I had to be there. I got in on the Monday night before his trial on Tuesday. I went to see him not long after getting in and seeing him that night I knew that I could not go a year without seeing him again. The trial date was continued (of course!), but I met his lawyer and we exchanged contact information so that the trial could be scheduled at a time I could go. I spent the rest of my time in New Orleans hanging out with him and the other kids. Birdie and I had many good conversations that week, and I was able to leave him on Thursday knowing I would see him in a month.
The call came as I was about halfway home that Thursday. Guy had been shot and killed. I had seen him about three hours before the call when I was saying bye to Birdie. Without being told, I knew Birdie had been there this time. I sent him a text to let him know I was on my way back, but I could not call him. He would not want to talk at that point anyway. I spent quite a bit of time with him the next few days, although it was not enough for me. I do not think our friendship would have been the same if I did not turn back that day. However, that is a story for another day.
I did go in for the trial. I also went in for the birth of his baby boy. I went in a few weeks before the birth of the baby so that he could have one last weekend all about him instead of the baby. I used to kid him that the baby would replace him as my boy once the baby was born, but instead it has made us closer. I love my little guy, but his daddy still has that special place in my heart! Birdie loves to watch me spoil little guy, and I love to watch him being a daddy. We have talked about the gospel many times, and I am convinced of Birdie's salvation even though he struggles with some serious sins. My friendship with Birdie has taught us both about Prov. 17:17: A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity. We have been there for each other during the death of a friend and the aftermath of Katrina. He has been there for me when I almost passed out in a hospital. I have been there for him during a trial and the birth of his child. We both have loved unconditionally. It is a friendship that will continue throughout eternity, but is a little piece of heaven on earth. I love my baby brother!
The funny thing about Birdie is that I do not remember meeting him. I am not even sure that he remembers meeting me. I do know that the second spring break that our college group went to the Center in 2002, he and his cousin were locked out of the house accidentally and were asleep on one of the couches downstairs when we arrived. I do not remember that, but he does. I even have a picture or two from that trip where you can see him in the background, but I do not think that I talked to him or knew who he was at that point. When I went back that summer for the month of July, we started getting close. In fact it was nothing unusual for me to have Birdie, Malcolm and Fred with me going everywhere. Plus Birdie was responsible for watching his nephew Coy who was almost two at the time, which meant that I watched Coy while Birdie played basketball.
We really started to click in 2003. Birdie got himself into some minor trouble while on an outing with the missionary at the Center. I noticed tension between the two, so I put extra effort that week into spending time with Birdie. He went everywhere with me (except the beach - he was temporarily banned from Center activities), and I played basketball with him for hours (resulting in a purple - yes purple - sunburn that made him concerned enough to stop the game and make me go inside to cool off and down a ton of water). I literally tortured him to make him tell me what he had done to get into trouble. I think I may have locked him in a room (favorite tactic of mine with the kids) and grilled him continuously for half a day before he revealed what he had done. Instead of instantly lecturing him, I acted completely out of character and told him I was proud of him for telling me himself instead of waiting until someone else told me. The lecture came later in the form of a very long letter that I sent to him and that he actually read and remembers to this day. From that point forward, there was no way to convince either one of us that we were not brother and sister, although he still didn't like for me to hug him in front of friends.
The dislike of public hugging went out the window in 2005 with Katrina hitting. As soon as I saw him the first time after Katrina, I received one of the biggest hugs, and in front of his whole family, that I think I have ever received from Birdie. Katrina is also when his mother started claiming me as her other daughter and his siblings started calling me their white sister. I became part of the extended family during that time, and I think that quite a few members of his extended family still claim me today. Our relationship had a strange period during 2006 and 2007 because I knew he was doing things he should not be doing, but I was still loving on my little brother. Plus he was arrested, and I had to lecture him. I lectured him on the phone. I lectured him in person. I lectured him over the phone some more. He did not seem to be listening, and I was frustrated. 2007 ended up being a year when I could only make one trip to New Orleans in the spring, and I actually went over a year without seeing him. I am not sure how I ever survived that long!
In January 2008, one of Birdie's good friends was shot and killed. Fortunately Birdie was not at the scene that night, although I do not think that he sees it that way. When I found out about it, I procrastinated in calling Birdie because I did not know how to deal with things like that over the phone, and I knew I could not make it down there to see him in person to go to the funeral. On the morning of the funeral, I sent him a text message to let him know I was thinking about him (cowardly, I know!), and soon my phone was ringing. It was so good to hear his voice on the other end, but I was glad I did not contact him earlier or my butt would have been driving to New Orleans! I had no idea that I would have my chance to be there for him after the death of a friend just a few months later. All I knew as I hung up is that I loved that kid and I had to see him soon.
Soon did not come soon enough. New Orleans has this cool website where you can follow court dates of those awaiting trial, and I knew he had a trial date coming up. I knew I wanted to be there for him for his trial date, so I kept up with it. It kept getting pushed, but finally a date was set for April 15. I called his sister (because he did not return my call) to find out if it was set to go, and I found out that his family knew nothing about the date coming up. Nice. Soon he was on the phone with me telling me that I did not have to come, but I had to be there. I got in on the Monday night before his trial on Tuesday. I went to see him not long after getting in and seeing him that night I knew that I could not go a year without seeing him again. The trial date was continued (of course!), but I met his lawyer and we exchanged contact information so that the trial could be scheduled at a time I could go. I spent the rest of my time in New Orleans hanging out with him and the other kids. Birdie and I had many good conversations that week, and I was able to leave him on Thursday knowing I would see him in a month.
The call came as I was about halfway home that Thursday. Guy had been shot and killed. I had seen him about three hours before the call when I was saying bye to Birdie. Without being told, I knew Birdie had been there this time. I sent him a text to let him know I was on my way back, but I could not call him. He would not want to talk at that point anyway. I spent quite a bit of time with him the next few days, although it was not enough for me. I do not think our friendship would have been the same if I did not turn back that day. However, that is a story for another day.
I did go in for the trial. I also went in for the birth of his baby boy. I went in a few weeks before the birth of the baby so that he could have one last weekend all about him instead of the baby. I used to kid him that the baby would replace him as my boy once the baby was born, but instead it has made us closer. I love my little guy, but his daddy still has that special place in my heart! Birdie loves to watch me spoil little guy, and I love to watch him being a daddy. We have talked about the gospel many times, and I am convinced of Birdie's salvation even though he struggles with some serious sins. My friendship with Birdie has taught us both about Prov. 17:17: A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity. We have been there for each other during the death of a friend and the aftermath of Katrina. He has been there for me when I almost passed out in a hospital. I have been there for him during a trial and the birth of his child. We both have loved unconditionally. It is a friendship that will continue throughout eternity, but is a little piece of heaven on earth. I love my baby brother!
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Countdown to 30: Day 9
(Hurricane Katrina cont.) Today will be the last day I post on Katrina even though there is so much more I could share, such as the trips to the 9th Ward, trips to Houston, trips to Nachitoches, trips to Ruston, rumors of people dying while later being able to rejoice because they were alive, etc. I have not even scratched the surface! My last two stories involve the same family, and are further examples of how God put me in the right place at the right time.
Several weeks after Katrina hit and after my house was empty again and I was getting settled, I got a phone call from one of the kids letting me know that one of our college age girls had been in a serious car accident. One of the passengers (a girl I did not know) was thrown out of the car and killed, and the girl I did know who also had been driving the car was on a ventilator in pediatric ICU. She was in critical condition but things were looking promising for her. They did not expect her to live through the first few nights, but by the time I got the phone call she was progressing. I asked where she was in the hospital, secretly hoping that it was far enough away that I would not need to go while at the same time hoping it was close enough I could go to see the family. My fear of hospitals created the strange desire to go but not to go. Turns out she was in the hospital in Shreveport, which is a little over an hour away from Texarkana.
I got in contact with the family and let them know I would be there on Saturday. I was secretly relieved to find out the girl was still in PICU because I knew that meant I would not have to go to her room and see her in the worst condition. I met her mother in the lobby and was casually chatting with her as we went upstairs to the PICU waiting room. Next thing I knew, we were standing beside her bed and there she was, ventilator and all. Needless to say, I was a bit freaked out. I froze. I plastered myself against a nearby wall and refused to say anything. Her whole family was laughing at my reaction. The nurse asked my relation to her, and her mom answered, "She is our cousin, can't you see the family resemblance?!?!" I have since learned that the easiest way for a non-family member to get in to see someone when visiting is for family only is to be a white person visiting an African-American patient. After being in a coma for a week and a day, the girl started waking up. Just a few weeks later, she was home (well, at their temporary home in Ruston). God had placed the family and me in the exact places that we needed to be for me to be able to minister to the family during that time. I am now an honorary member of the family, and do not try convincing any of them otherwise!
In spring of 2006, my church was able to go down and gut the home of the same family. I cannot describe the amount of hard work that is involved in gutting a house. To give a bit of perspective, you have to wear a hazmat suit and goggles and a mask. There is no ventilation in a hazmat suit. I drank at least two bottles of water every 45 minutes, and I did not go to the bathroom all day. The first step is taking everything the family owns and putting it out on the curb for a trash truck to come by and pick it up. Then you start to rip out the plaster and slats that are damp and moldy and mildewy. It is hard work. There are all sorts of four, six, and eight legged critters that come out of the wall when you start ripping it out. Now that I know how much work it involves, and am not sure that I could ever do it again. But I probably would. Gutting homes is an important ministry in a situation like the aftermath of Katrina. Workers were charging thousands (because it is a lot of work), but that would leave families with no money to start rebuilding. It was too emotional of a task for the homeowner to do it. Plus, many homeowners such as the family we helped were stuck in the situation where they were paying rent on an apartment and a mortgage on a house, meaning they had to pick up extra shifts of work whenever possible, leaving little time to work on the house. The family is a family of believers, so it was a small way for believers to help fellow believers. Plus, one of the members of our team was able to share the gospel with a man on the street walking by, and that man then went forward for baptism that Sunday at the church that I took the group to. God has a way of putting us in the right place at the right time!
Several weeks after Katrina hit and after my house was empty again and I was getting settled, I got a phone call from one of the kids letting me know that one of our college age girls had been in a serious car accident. One of the passengers (a girl I did not know) was thrown out of the car and killed, and the girl I did know who also had been driving the car was on a ventilator in pediatric ICU. She was in critical condition but things were looking promising for her. They did not expect her to live through the first few nights, but by the time I got the phone call she was progressing. I asked where she was in the hospital, secretly hoping that it was far enough away that I would not need to go while at the same time hoping it was close enough I could go to see the family. My fear of hospitals created the strange desire to go but not to go. Turns out she was in the hospital in Shreveport, which is a little over an hour away from Texarkana.
I got in contact with the family and let them know I would be there on Saturday. I was secretly relieved to find out the girl was still in PICU because I knew that meant I would not have to go to her room and see her in the worst condition. I met her mother in the lobby and was casually chatting with her as we went upstairs to the PICU waiting room. Next thing I knew, we were standing beside her bed and there she was, ventilator and all. Needless to say, I was a bit freaked out. I froze. I plastered myself against a nearby wall and refused to say anything. Her whole family was laughing at my reaction. The nurse asked my relation to her, and her mom answered, "She is our cousin, can't you see the family resemblance?!?!" I have since learned that the easiest way for a non-family member to get in to see someone when visiting is for family only is to be a white person visiting an African-American patient. After being in a coma for a week and a day, the girl started waking up. Just a few weeks later, she was home (well, at their temporary home in Ruston). God had placed the family and me in the exact places that we needed to be for me to be able to minister to the family during that time. I am now an honorary member of the family, and do not try convincing any of them otherwise!
In spring of 2006, my church was able to go down and gut the home of the same family. I cannot describe the amount of hard work that is involved in gutting a house. To give a bit of perspective, you have to wear a hazmat suit and goggles and a mask. There is no ventilation in a hazmat suit. I drank at least two bottles of water every 45 minutes, and I did not go to the bathroom all day. The first step is taking everything the family owns and putting it out on the curb for a trash truck to come by and pick it up. Then you start to rip out the plaster and slats that are damp and moldy and mildewy. It is hard work. There are all sorts of four, six, and eight legged critters that come out of the wall when you start ripping it out. Now that I know how much work it involves, and am not sure that I could ever do it again. But I probably would. Gutting homes is an important ministry in a situation like the aftermath of Katrina. Workers were charging thousands (because it is a lot of work), but that would leave families with no money to start rebuilding. It was too emotional of a task for the homeowner to do it. Plus, many homeowners such as the family we helped were stuck in the situation where they were paying rent on an apartment and a mortgage on a house, meaning they had to pick up extra shifts of work whenever possible, leaving little time to work on the house. The family is a family of believers, so it was a small way for believers to help fellow believers. Plus, one of the members of our team was able to share the gospel with a man on the street walking by, and that man then went forward for baptism that Sunday at the church that I took the group to. God has a way of putting us in the right place at the right time!
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Countdown to 30: Day 10
(Hurricane Katrina cont.) God put me in the right place at the right time with the right possession during the aftermath of the hurricane. Today I will share two stories that show that and tomorrow at least one more.
After the hurricane hit, people were scattered all over the place and it was difficult to locate them. One of the families that we knew lived in an area that flooded was not showing up on any of the registries, and we just thought we might not hear from them ever again. There was no way of knowing if they were rescued. The mother has mental issues, and me and one of the other missionaries were very attached to the children. We did know that they had not evacuated prior to the storm. They were just an unknown. On the Wednesday a week and a half after Katrina hit, I was getting ready for work as usual and decided to open up the newspaper to read while blowdrying my hair. Soon I was screaming in excitement with Ms. Brenda running down the hall to see what was going on. I was so excited I could not put sentences together. Right there on the front of the Texarkana Gazette was a picture of this family that we were particularly concerned about - they were in a shelter in Texarkana. The story was there for everyone to read - the family was rescued by boat, split into three groups for buses after being told that the buses were all headed to the same place, mom and one son went to Shreveport, a son and a daughter ended up in Tyler, and a third son ended up in Houston (he was 13 I believe at the time). Mom was transported to Texarkana because of health concerns, the two in Tyler were transported to Texarkana to be reunited with her, and the third son, after an almost week long search, was flown to Texarkana to be reunited with the family. The family had no idea I was in Texarkana since I had just moved there, so it was a complete shock to them when I walked into the shelter that night after work!
A single mother and her son were staying with family in Houston. Not too long after Katrina hit, Rita threatened to hit the Gulf Coast near Houston. This mother did not want to go through another hurricane, and called to see if she and her son could live with me. I had an extra bedroom and an extra bed, so why not?!?! I really did not know her very well at the time. Her brother is my little brother, Birdie, and her son has always been my spoiled little boy. We had hung out in Houston right after the hurricane because I could not wait to get down to see Birdie. With about 30 minutes preparation, I was in my car headed down to Houston to pick up this mother and her son to live with me. At the time I did not know how long they would live with me, but for some reason that did not seem to matter. We loaded up all of her possessions (which fit in a tupperware tub) and headed back to Texarkana. She and her son lived with me for almost two weeks. It was not until after they had moved out that I began to realize how crazy it might have been to let an almost stranger move into my house with her son. However, I believe that God teaches us to house those who need it and to share our possessions with those in need. My motivation was love - love for her son, love for her brother, love for her, and love for God. I learned a little bit about biblical hospitality during that time. The aftermath of Katrina is at least one time in my life that I can point to where my actions did not make sense to the world - and hopefully portrayed the love of God.
After the hurricane hit, people were scattered all over the place and it was difficult to locate them. One of the families that we knew lived in an area that flooded was not showing up on any of the registries, and we just thought we might not hear from them ever again. There was no way of knowing if they were rescued. The mother has mental issues, and me and one of the other missionaries were very attached to the children. We did know that they had not evacuated prior to the storm. They were just an unknown. On the Wednesday a week and a half after Katrina hit, I was getting ready for work as usual and decided to open up the newspaper to read while blowdrying my hair. Soon I was screaming in excitement with Ms. Brenda running down the hall to see what was going on. I was so excited I could not put sentences together. Right there on the front of the Texarkana Gazette was a picture of this family that we were particularly concerned about - they were in a shelter in Texarkana. The story was there for everyone to read - the family was rescued by boat, split into three groups for buses after being told that the buses were all headed to the same place, mom and one son went to Shreveport, a son and a daughter ended up in Tyler, and a third son ended up in Houston (he was 13 I believe at the time). Mom was transported to Texarkana because of health concerns, the two in Tyler were transported to Texarkana to be reunited with her, and the third son, after an almost week long search, was flown to Texarkana to be reunited with the family. The family had no idea I was in Texarkana since I had just moved there, so it was a complete shock to them when I walked into the shelter that night after work!
A single mother and her son were staying with family in Houston. Not too long after Katrina hit, Rita threatened to hit the Gulf Coast near Houston. This mother did not want to go through another hurricane, and called to see if she and her son could live with me. I had an extra bedroom and an extra bed, so why not?!?! I really did not know her very well at the time. Her brother is my little brother, Birdie, and her son has always been my spoiled little boy. We had hung out in Houston right after the hurricane because I could not wait to get down to see Birdie. With about 30 minutes preparation, I was in my car headed down to Houston to pick up this mother and her son to live with me. At the time I did not know how long they would live with me, but for some reason that did not seem to matter. We loaded up all of her possessions (which fit in a tupperware tub) and headed back to Texarkana. She and her son lived with me for almost two weeks. It was not until after they had moved out that I began to realize how crazy it might have been to let an almost stranger move into my house with her son. However, I believe that God teaches us to house those who need it and to share our possessions with those in need. My motivation was love - love for her son, love for her brother, love for her, and love for God. I learned a little bit about biblical hospitality during that time. The aftermath of Katrina is at least one time in my life that I can point to where my actions did not make sense to the world - and hopefully portrayed the love of God.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Countdown to 30: Day 11
(Hurricane Katrina cont.) At some point I remember getting a call from Keayea, Birdie's sister. They were in Houston after getting out of New Orleans and driving two days. I remember listening. I listened a lot on the phone during that time. I do not remember everything that she was telling me, and got the story quite confused as I tried to tell it to others, but all I knew is they were safe. I couldn't believe it though until I talked to Birdie. I had to talk to him. It was bothering me that I had not talked to him since before the storm, but I was able to talk to him that night.
I had daily phone calls with the missionary at the Center who had evacuated to her parents' home in Kentucky. We would update each other on who we had heard from. We figured out that text messages were going through on 504 numbers whereas phone calls were not as reliable. I was not a texter at that time. I would call the one family that remained in the neighborhood daily to find out if they had received any assistance (and to make sure they had put an axe in the attic just in case). At some point, they stopped answering their phone.
I pretty much started living on autopilot. I had many conversations with people that consisted of where are you at, what is your phone number there, and then listening as they complained about shelters, lack of assistance, lack of money, etc. Everyone was grieving, including me, because the one thing that we all knew for sure is that nothing would ever be normal again. The way of life prior to the storm was gone.
There are many stories of God's provision, a few of which I will share in the coming days. One of those stories involves a family who called me from Baton Rouge. They had no gas left (at least not to go much further than Baton Rouge), it was hard to find gas. They did not have a place to stay because the family member they thought they could stay with had a houseful already. The only thing they knew to do was call me, and I had no way to help them. After getting off the phone with them, I checked my e-mail, and there was an e-mail from a college friend whose family lived in Baton Rouge and wanted to help if I knew of anyone needing help. Several frustrating phone calls later as I tried to direct the two families to a meeting spot, this family of a college friend was able to provide some immediate assistance to this family from New Orleans. It is awesome still to think how God worked that out.
I had daily phone calls with the missionary at the Center who had evacuated to her parents' home in Kentucky. We would update each other on who we had heard from. We figured out that text messages were going through on 504 numbers whereas phone calls were not as reliable. I was not a texter at that time. I would call the one family that remained in the neighborhood daily to find out if they had received any assistance (and to make sure they had put an axe in the attic just in case). At some point, they stopped answering their phone.
I pretty much started living on autopilot. I had many conversations with people that consisted of where are you at, what is your phone number there, and then listening as they complained about shelters, lack of assistance, lack of money, etc. Everyone was grieving, including me, because the one thing that we all knew for sure is that nothing would ever be normal again. The way of life prior to the storm was gone.
There are many stories of God's provision, a few of which I will share in the coming days. One of those stories involves a family who called me from Baton Rouge. They had no gas left (at least not to go much further than Baton Rouge), it was hard to find gas. They did not have a place to stay because the family member they thought they could stay with had a houseful already. The only thing they knew to do was call me, and I had no way to help them. After getting off the phone with them, I checked my e-mail, and there was an e-mail from a college friend whose family lived in Baton Rouge and wanted to help if I knew of anyone needing help. Several frustrating phone calls later as I tried to direct the two families to a meeting spot, this family of a college friend was able to provide some immediate assistance to this family from New Orleans. It is awesome still to think how God worked that out.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Countdown to 30: Day 12
(Hurricane Katrina cont.) On Monday around noon, I started dialing the phone. Suprisingly, after about an hour, I was able to reach someone at one of the homes. Within two hours, I had made contact with those in the homes near the Center that I had numbers for. There was wind damage, including a tree that had fallen in on one of the homes. There was no electricity, which was to be expected since the wires are above ground in that part of town. Everything else seemed to be alright. I made sure that each home had my cell phone number, and I let them know that cell phones with New Orleans numbers were not working except to call out so they needed to check in with me.
As the afternoon wore on, it became apparent that the city was flooding very rapidly. The people in the neighborhood had no way to watch the flooding on TV. My new mission was to inform each of the homes that they needed to find a way out of the city because the flooding was quickly approaching their part of town. Landlines stopped working because most of the phones were handhelds and only lasted as long as the charge. One home in the neighborhood had an old phone that did not plug into an electrical outlet, and I could still contact them. I just had to hope, pray, and wait to hear from the other families. Rumors were running rampant. Looting was occuring. It was a mess!
On Tuesday, there was only one family in the neighborhood that I could reach. The water was still rising and they were starting to panic a little. They did not want to leave their house because they were supposed to be getting kicked out by the owner soon and did not want to risk losing everything. They had stories of others leaving or rumored to leave. I watched coverage on TV all day long (and was really tired of seeing this one guy that they showed over and over and over and over loading the same ice chest into the back of his car). I actually saw the rescue of one family that we knew on TV, but they kept showing the guy loading his ice chest instead of showing the clip again. I watched for hours trying to see the clip again. I also watched to see who else I would know rescued. It was tough!
As the afternoon wore on, it became apparent that the city was flooding very rapidly. The people in the neighborhood had no way to watch the flooding on TV. My new mission was to inform each of the homes that they needed to find a way out of the city because the flooding was quickly approaching their part of town. Landlines stopped working because most of the phones were handhelds and only lasted as long as the charge. One home in the neighborhood had an old phone that did not plug into an electrical outlet, and I could still contact them. I just had to hope, pray, and wait to hear from the other families. Rumors were running rampant. Looting was occuring. It was a mess!
On Tuesday, there was only one family in the neighborhood that I could reach. The water was still rising and they were starting to panic a little. They did not want to leave their house because they were supposed to be getting kicked out by the owner soon and did not want to risk losing everything. They had stories of others leaving or rumored to leave. I watched coverage on TV all day long (and was really tired of seeing this one guy that they showed over and over and over and over loading the same ice chest into the back of his car). I actually saw the rescue of one family that we knew on TV, but they kept showing the guy loading his ice chest instead of showing the clip again. I watched for hours trying to see the clip again. I also watched to see who else I would know rescued. It was tough!
Countdown to 30: Day 13
Hurricane Katrina is the natural disaster that has affected me the most in my life to this point. There is no way that I can fit all of Katrina in a single post, so it will probably take me several.
At the end of August 2005, I was excited because I finally had a job and I was moving to the place I love - Texarkana! I bought a new car to start building the necessary credit to own a home and to have a more up-to-date car. I was staying with Ms. Brenda because I had signed a lease on an apartment, but it was not ready yet. I was preparing to start the new job the first of September. I knew that there was a storm brewing in the Gulf that had the potential of hitting New Orleans, and it looked like a big one.
On Saturday, I could not help but watch the weather coverage off and on. The most encouraging thing seemed to be that the governor of Louisiana was saying that it looked like there would not be a need to evacuate. Whew! It can't be that bad if there is no need for evacuation, right? When I woke up the next morning, the whole story had changed. Category 5. Headed straight to New Orleans. Evacuate now. It seemed as if things had changed overnight. Fortunately, I was staying with Ms. Brenda. Ms. Brenda worked for years with the Red Cross. She was able to provide me with a ton of advice that helped with communication over the next few days. She adviced me to obtain several contact numbers for anyone I talked with, to keep a notepad with the numbers handy anytime I talked to anyone, and to keep trying numbers until there was a response. On Sunday I started calling everyone I had numbers for and writing down every number anyone would give me.
On Sunday night I could only wait to see if the worst would happen. I did not sleep much as I watched the storm get closer and closer to New Orleans. At some point on Monday it was mostly passed and the worse was over. The eye hit Mississippi instead of New Orleans, and New Orleans was fortunate enough to get the west side of the storm. At least those were all thoughts I had on Monday.
At the end of August 2005, I was excited because I finally had a job and I was moving to the place I love - Texarkana! I bought a new car to start building the necessary credit to own a home and to have a more up-to-date car. I was staying with Ms. Brenda because I had signed a lease on an apartment, but it was not ready yet. I was preparing to start the new job the first of September. I knew that there was a storm brewing in the Gulf that had the potential of hitting New Orleans, and it looked like a big one.
On Saturday, I could not help but watch the weather coverage off and on. The most encouraging thing seemed to be that the governor of Louisiana was saying that it looked like there would not be a need to evacuate. Whew! It can't be that bad if there is no need for evacuation, right? When I woke up the next morning, the whole story had changed. Category 5. Headed straight to New Orleans. Evacuate now. It seemed as if things had changed overnight. Fortunately, I was staying with Ms. Brenda. Ms. Brenda worked for years with the Red Cross. She was able to provide me with a ton of advice that helped with communication over the next few days. She adviced me to obtain several contact numbers for anyone I talked with, to keep a notepad with the numbers handy anytime I talked to anyone, and to keep trying numbers until there was a response. On Sunday I started calling everyone I had numbers for and writing down every number anyone would give me.
On Sunday night I could only wait to see if the worst would happen. I did not sleep much as I watched the storm get closer and closer to New Orleans. At some point on Monday it was mostly passed and the worse was over. The eye hit Mississippi instead of New Orleans, and New Orleans was fortunate enough to get the west side of the storm. At least those were all thoughts I had on Monday.
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