A video on the ground in Joplin

It is hard to describe the devastation we saw. The pictures truly do not do it justice. Amy took a video while driving to their work site; you can find it at http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=2029335423739&comments

Dad has a message for us

Called dad this morning to let him know we got back okay.

He said to tell the team that he really enjoyed having you around. He said the farm is really quiet now.

He used an additional adjective in there, but I won't print it here :)

Photos to come!

I will be adding photos of the trip to Joplin as they come in. Many of the people who went took many, many shots, and we'll be sifting through them for a bit. Stay tuned!

We strike out on our own

We started the day with Charlie and Kate. We are able to clear their entire corner, remove the porch, and repair their fence. The dogs are ecstatic! They can run again! Charlie and Kate are grateful and tearful. They suggest we help their elderly neighbors, and we do. Large trees are down, stumps need to be pulled. Both are taken care of by noon.

Meanwhile, the calls for “we could use your help” begin to roll in. I take the van by properties to determine if we can make a difference. The ones that are completely leveled need more than we can do. We find one couple that needs a tree felled and other trees cut up and moved. His recent heart surgery meant he could only do minor work, and then he hurt his back. It takes only an hour or so. More calls come to my cell. A pastor, “Can you pull a stump and cut up some wood and take it to the curb?” A friend of Kate’s, “Can you get the debris from the yard to the curb?” There is a dumpster in front of her house with a terrible smell coming from it. Something in there is dead. Definitely. We decide it must be a bird – perhaps a large bird with fur and four legs, but our story is that it is a bird. We keep working.

At 4, we come to a halt. We return to Americorps and leave our tools with them. We started out with two full trucks of supplies, equipment, and tools and now are empty. After cleaning up, we head to Pittsburg to Chicken Annie’s for regional delicacies. Shock! These folks have not tasted chicken livers, gizzards, hearts, German potato salad! Faces are made, others find new delicacies. We toast Smiley and Ande for their help, hold hands for a long grace.

Outside, a waitress takes our picture in front of the giant red chicken. We started this trip five days ago, strangers inside the van, setting out to help strangers, staying in the homes of strangers. We ended it friends staying with friends helping other friends. We’ve learned a great deal about human resiliency and disaster relief. This has been an experience unlike any other; we will stay tuned to see how the rebuilding progresses. We could not do everything – but we did this. We have thrown many starfish into the sea since yesterday. For Charlie and Kate and Ray and Mary and Tim and Mary and Tom – “It will matter to this one…”

I need to check you for ticks

Today, two of us head to the Salvation Army, everyone else to the field.

The day is defined by “hurry up and wait.” Told to be at the central site at 7:30, it’s a full ninety minutes before heading out. Taken to a home that abuts some dense woods, removing debris in the sun and 95 degree heat, feeling like something is crawling all over us. Wait! Something is crawling all over us! John lifts his shirt to cool off and discovers a new mole. No, make that a tick. Soon everyone is brushing them off and, unfortunately, pulling them off. Eric holds the record with 8 of them. It’s time to leave the woods.

Waiting more than an hour today for lunch and even later for the shuttle back, we decide to abandon the organized clean up and strike out on our own. I call Cathy, the distributor of the funds we sent last week, and she sends us a name. Charlie and his wife need help repairing a porch, removing debris. We head that way and they do indeed need our help. We spend the rest of the afternoon getting a good start on their yard. Their daughter, Kate, tells us her story. She and her mother heard the alarms, thought the storm had passed, and – in the yard – heard a freight train. “That’s what everyone tells you, she says, “and it is really true.” They each grabbed a dog and headed for the basement. She said she could hear breaking glass and the wind tugging at the back of her shirt. “We were sure this was it. We’re the lucky ones.” Their house is still standing.

The porch is not reparable; we’ll return tomorrow to remove it safely. They are most concerned with the fence that is down; their dogs need room to run. We leave at 4, with a promise to return in the morning.

Meanwhile, at the Salvation Army, Brittany is on day 2 and has become so proficient she is put in charge of the personal item distribution section. Lots of people coming and going, but she is steady and takes care to give the homeless what they need.

Back at the farm, joined by older sister Anne, we have a picnic with our host families. One of them, Jannette, cannot resist and brings two pans of lasagna. Anne finishes off dinner with homemade brownie sundaes. The community has welcomed us, and there is much laughter amid the conversation.

We make the rounds safely. By now Jeremy has learned the “city route” well and the “farm group” no longer gasp as I hurtle down the gravel roads. I am not a good driver, but I make up for it with excessive speed. Everyone will make one more check for ticks, wipe down with bleach to avoid chigger bites, and sleep deeply in the quiet. Stay tuned.

First Day on the Ground

First day on the ground.We have partnered with the university here, and, on their campus, life looks normal. Driving to the center of town, our vans cross 20th street and the surroundings look like a nuclear meltdown. This truly looks like a bomb site - we have been told there is more rubble here than at the World Trade Center, and it is believable. Stark tree branches, houses in rubble, piles of brick and wood that were schools and churches and homes that are now just piles.

The volunteer organizers on the ground are orderly, but lacking central leadership. Part of this is due to the sheer volume of work that needs to be done, partly because of bureaucratic issues, partly due to the number of volunteer agencies here. The field group begins cutting and moving trees, and are told they have to move to front areas, as we need individual waivers and permits in order to clean back yards. Given the houses are completely razed, it's hard to beievee that crossing from the front to the back of the rubble is a problem -- but apparently it is. We're asked to place personal items on the front stoop in case the residents return. It is unsettling to sort through the wreckage -- literally -- of lives and place items we might think are important on the porch. It is overwhelming, heart wrenching work, coupled with crushing heat.

Still, our spirits are good. So many generous hearts. We didn't need our MRE's (darn!) as so many people were driving around in their cars, handing out food to workers.

End of day, we head to Columbus, Kansas, my hometown, about 30 miles from Joplin, to the host homes that have volunteered to take us in. Past wheat fields, cows, horses, and the Kansas National Forest (thanks for the renaming, Eric!) we arrive in early evening. Hospitality abounds and we are warmly welcomed. Some are luckier than others -- Aunt Peggy leaves warm cookies on the counter for Brittany and Maggie, Gary has cold beer and a swimming pool for Tom and Nasim. After quick showers, back to my dad's farm where my sister, Ande, has made us a wonderful dinner. Root beer floats for dessert, we watch the sun set over the fields. It is quiet and serene; we are reflective as we make the rounds, taking people home.

Up at 5:30 to make the pickup runds again, on the road at 6:30. Today, most of us are out to the debris fields. Another hot day, sun already beating down. There is so much to be done! It is truly overwhelming. We know we can't do much, but we can do this. Mike Harris reminds us of the story of the young boy throwing starfish back into the ocean. "You aren't ever going to get them all out there," he's told "It won't matter in the end." The boy looks up as he throws another. "It will matter to this one."

Arrival -- Finally!

It's not really an adventure if you don't have adversity. Adversity really early in the process. We left Regis with a send-off from Channel 7 news, and a blessing from University Ministry. In a reflective mood, excited but apprehensive, still wondering what we're to face--we had our first hurdle when the truck broke down near the Colorado border. Well, not really a breakdown -- a gauge showed gas, the truck ran out. It seems nothing too serious (the tanks won't switch) but we lost an hour finding an open gas station in far eastern Colorado and gas cans to boot. It was a long trip, but no whining. Two vans, a truck and a flatbed don't make fast time. The eleven hour trip turned into 12, then 13, then....on the last leg, after midnight, final state road approaching the town where we were to stay -- a detour! The road was out. Took us a final 20 miles out of our way. We arrived at the hotel near 2:00 a.m. exhausted but (take note, Jeremy!) still no whining. Up in the a.m. to head to Joplin. Not sure what to expect. Stay tuned.

Headed to Joplin to help

We just held our preparatory meeting with the 18 Regis employees who are traveling to Joplin Missouri to help with disaster recovery from the tornado two weeks ago. I was so touched by the generosity of time and expertise demonstrated by this group of people. I worked at the hospital that was destroyed by the tornado; it was my home for 15 years. My sister still works there. Thank goodness she is safe.

Every employee at Regis gets mission leave, and so this is an opportunity for them to use it. We don't know what we're in for -- other than heat and humidity -- but it's clear this is a bunch of people who we can rely on to have our backs.

I'm a little scared and apprehensive about what we will see, but also excited. We have nursing faculty and students with us who will get to see firsthand what health care delivery is like under extreme circumstances. We may be able to tour the mobile MASH unit that has been established. It apparently has six wings and looks like something out of science fiction. They can deliver babies and do surgery there, which is really needed, as the area has lost its major regional medical center, heart center, trauma center, and cancer center.

The group will also get a cultural immersion in rural America! We are all staying in the Kansas town of my childhood, Columbus, Ks. It only has 2800 people and a lot of farms. It's about 20 miles from Joplin, and most people there used Joplin as their go-to place for retail goods and groceries. Relatives and high school friends have stepped up and will give us all a place to stay.

This is such a chance to contribute in a meaningful way under dire circumstances. I'm grateful to work in such a place and ready to get rolling. I'll keep you posted on our experience over the next few days. Stay tuned.

If you want to help, too, there is a fund set up for the more than 3000 employees of St. John's Medical Center whose future is uncertain. The Missouri Hospital Association has set up a fund for them called HERO, or the Hospital Employee Relief Operation. You can donate to them at https://www.mhanet.com/herofund/