I just finished reading a blog about Fred Gray, the attorney who defended Rosa Parks and encouraged the young Martin Luth King, Jr. to his active role in desegregation. ( Find more about this amazing man http://www.fredgray.net/welcome.html .)
It got me to thinking about all those people out there that are the mentors or role models or just the friend that gives one their ear or the encouragement to accomplish much. I think of all the people I know that have really accomplished a lot in their lives and every single one of them had so much help.
We remember Rosa Park and Martin Luther King, Jr. and think of them as heroes. I have even seen photos of MLK with Fred Gray and nevr gave the man a second thought. Yet neither of these people could have accomplished anything if Rosa had rotted in jail or MLK had just kept preaching at his little church. The changes brought about by the desegregation movement were achieved as much by Fred Gray as by the others.
Let us give thanks today for all the "helpers" out there...all of the people that are great in their own right, serving God as he calls. Let's give thanks for all who understand that their role will not include the glory that goes with the spokesperson, that their planning will not garner the praise that the ones who carry out the plans, that their leadership or guidance or hard work will likely go unnoticed and unthanked by most. Let's give thanks that these people are willing to do it anyway for the good and for God.
God bless the helpers of the world.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Friday, July 21, 2006
I stepped into the room to find all the heads bowed in prayer. The four years olds in this Vacation Bible School class were saying grace before their snack. The young college student teacher of the class was having each of them pray individually. Most of their prayers were inaudible but they were talking to God easily and and eagerly thanking him for the crackers and cheese before them.
I was thinking how smart that young woman was to get these kids started with this kind of praying out loud with others at such an early age...getting them comfortable with prayer. I know I shouldn't have been thinking at all but praying along with them myself but I was curious. Suddenly I heard these words loud and clear from a very small boy ~ "and thank you for dying on the cross for us". The adults in the room all looked up at the same time and looked at each other in amazement and smiled.
Oh, how I wish I had known at four years old... even at his understanding level, whatever that may be, he had it right.
I was thinking how smart that young woman was to get these kids started with this kind of praying out loud with others at such an early age...getting them comfortable with prayer. I know I shouldn't have been thinking at all but praying along with them myself but I was curious. Suddenly I heard these words loud and clear from a very small boy ~ "and thank you for dying on the cross for us". The adults in the room all looked up at the same time and looked at each other in amazement and smiled.
Oh, how I wish I had known at four years old... even at his understanding level, whatever that may be, he had it right.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Friday, July 14, 2006
I stuck birthday candles in a watermelon and brought it out at midnight. Zeke's friends had been coming and going all evening and these that were left were staying up all night. They were leaving at 4:30 in the morning for the Sonshine Festival in Minnesota... so why sleep? Sleep on the bus! This is the thinking of a just-turned-20 young man who would spend his birthday traveling on a church bus with 20 other kids for 9 hours.
They'd been shooting the leftover fireworks and were in the process of building the "sparkler bomb" and the sparkler "flame thrower". These homemade incindiary devices are common among the youth of our community and not without their danger. Last week a hometown boy, a teammate of Zeke's on the soccer team, tried to put a can over the top of his sparker bomb and it blew up with his face above it. It looks as if he will not lose his eye afterall... and with still have some sight in one of his eyes. This after plastic surgery, of course.
What is it about boys? The powers that be outlawed the M-80s and Cherry Bombs of our youth but the ingenuity of kids will prevail. They must have their big bangs! When I use the boy above as an example of why not to build a sparkler bomb I am met with a look of disgust. "Mom, he was stupid." Everyone knows when the bomb is lighted you run like crazy! It's a bomb for heaven's sake!
Just blowing up a sparkler bomb is not enough though. They've all done that. They need to blow up stuff. Beau dug around and found some stuffed animals that they had won in one of those machines where you drop in a quarter and try to grab a toy with a crane. Off they went 2 miles down to the end of this secluded road. The nearest house was a half mile from their destination. They left with instructions for me to listen and see if I could hear it. I told them I'd better not have the sheriff at my door... or an ambulance racing down the road.
You might be wondering how could I let them go off and do that? If you are, then you probably have not raised four sons. There is alot of praying involved. Among these highschool and college boys were 2 valedictorians, 7 honor roll students, 4 members of the National Honor Society. They are smart kids, not out drinking or carousing or vandalizing. Sometimes one just has to trust them and trust God. (Besides, I had seen their bomb and knew they had used less than half the sparklers my oldest son and friend used while experimenting with their bombs 8 years ago when Sparkler bombs were the new thing.)
I sat in my rocking chair on the deck, said a little prayer for their safety and for them to use those good brains and awaited their return. Yes, I heard the blast. It was not loud but one of those barely perceptible booms that sound far off but you know something big just happened somewhere. I waited...and waited...
They tumbled out of the cars, laughing with delight as they all spoke at once and could hardly wait to show me the video. They brought back the bunny...or what was left of him.
I made them show me that they all still had all 10 digits on their hands and then we watched the video. At some point I realized someone (okay, it was Beau) had brought a little bottle of gasoline to douse the dolly with. I watched in horror. Zeke was cautioning but it was still frightening to watch. The group went way down the road to watch. I heard one boy tell Zeke to get closer with the video and he infromed him that he could see it just fine. The torch lighters ran toward the others like their pants were on fire.
There is no doubt, the Lord was with them on Zeke's 20th birthday.
PS~ Yes, I made them listen to me lecture them on the danger of lighting gasoline and the fumes.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Beau slept in a Fireworks tent for two weeks before Independence Day. He got paid $25 a night plus all the fireworks he wanted. If he came in early or stayed late she paid him for the time. It was a sweet deal for him. CJ had done it when he was a teen, too. I suppose it could have been dangerous had someone tried to come steal, it was on the main mini-highway between Smithville and Kearney. His instructions were that if someone after he had closed the tent and he told them that he was closed and if they indicated they weren’t there to buy fireworks, well, he should just take off. The tent was at the edge of the property of the homeowner with the house in full view so I wasn’t too worried.
I was more concerned that pranking kids would come and try to scare him or worse, sickos might think it fun to beat him up out there all alone. I asked him if Carol, the tent owner, knew that anyone could be come in a steal everything in the place while he slept soundly. He just laughed and shrugged.
One night about 11:00 pm someone did stop by to buy fireworks, noticing that the lights were on. The kid was pleased and surprised that it was “open”. Beau sold what he wanted and didn’t mention that he just hadn’t gotten around to closing the tent down yet.
It turned out he was rarely alone anyway. He had company almost every night. His brother Kevin, would often stop by on his way home from work around 11:00 and his Dad would stop by on his way to work at midnight. Girls brought him goodies and boys came for the to play the X-Box that Carol had set up out in the tent for the workers to play during down time.
One morning at 6:30 he was awakened by a “Pssst. PSSST. PSSSSST!” He groggily lifted his head to see a pair of eyes peaking in above the door of the tent. It startled him until he realized it was morning (almost) and it was his tall friend, Jared. His dad had dropped him off at the tent to visit with Beau while he ran in to pick up breakfast before they headed off to work.
Several nights it was an all night party with 4 or 5 boys showing up and playing games while he eventually slept. He had to get up and go to work at 8:00 in the morning! I was always surprised that these kids’ moms let them stay there with Beau all night or at least well into the next day. I guess it says a lot about Beau’s reputation and the way we trust our kids. Trust. We parents pretty much have that among this bunch of kids. They do stupid stuff like any kid but, so far, not stupid, stupid stuff.
It’s not that idiotic, blind kind of trust that some parents have that their kids are always right, truthful or good. Those parents are constantly making excuses for bad behavior and bailing their kids out and their kids keep getting into bigger and bigger trouble. I’m just saying that these kids are making mostly good choices and have earned our trust. When one of them starts to make dumb choices the others respond by trying to pull them back. We parents don’t have to do it much, their peers do it and they accept it so much better coming from them. They really are close. They really do love and accept each other!
I was more concerned that pranking kids would come and try to scare him or worse, sickos might think it fun to beat him up out there all alone. I asked him if Carol, the tent owner, knew that anyone could be come in a steal everything in the place while he slept soundly. He just laughed and shrugged.
One night about 11:00 pm someone did stop by to buy fireworks, noticing that the lights were on. The kid was pleased and surprised that it was “open”. Beau sold what he wanted and didn’t mention that he just hadn’t gotten around to closing the tent down yet.
It turned out he was rarely alone anyway. He had company almost every night. His brother Kevin, would often stop by on his way home from work around 11:00 and his Dad would stop by on his way to work at midnight. Girls brought him goodies and boys came for the to play the X-Box that Carol had set up out in the tent for the workers to play during down time.
One morning at 6:30 he was awakened by a “Pssst. PSSST. PSSSSST!” He groggily lifted his head to see a pair of eyes peaking in above the door of the tent. It startled him until he realized it was morning (almost) and it was his tall friend, Jared. His dad had dropped him off at the tent to visit with Beau while he ran in to pick up breakfast before they headed off to work.
Several nights it was an all night party with 4 or 5 boys showing up and playing games while he eventually slept. He had to get up and go to work at 8:00 in the morning! I was always surprised that these kids’ moms let them stay there with Beau all night or at least well into the next day. I guess it says a lot about Beau’s reputation and the way we trust our kids. Trust. We parents pretty much have that among this bunch of kids. They do stupid stuff like any kid but, so far, not stupid, stupid stuff.
It’s not that idiotic, blind kind of trust that some parents have that their kids are always right, truthful or good. Those parents are constantly making excuses for bad behavior and bailing their kids out and their kids keep getting into bigger and bigger trouble. I’m just saying that these kids are making mostly good choices and have earned our trust. When one of them starts to make dumb choices the others respond by trying to pull them back. We parents don’t have to do it much, their peers do it and they accept it so much better coming from them. They really are close. They really do love and accept each other!
Pro 18:24 Friends come and friends go, but a true friend sticks by you like family.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Finally rain. I hadn’t kept an eye on the weather reports, but I thought it was coming. It has been so hot and the ground already had dry August cracks begging for a drink to green things up. It’s not supposed to be like this in June. June is the rainy month. I remember when I used to teach swim lessons there were weeks at a time when the pool would be closed for rain…or we’d be standing in waist deep water our teeth chattering trying to coax a child into relaxing enough for a black float while the clouds gathered overhead. But yesterday it finally rained.
All week it has been so hot and humid and rumors of that building into a thunderhead and somewhere in the city or the suburbs it had…but no rain for us. The lilies are trying to flower but the buds are wrinkling instead of blooming. The last cherries on the tree look like raisins hanging there.
Yesterday I took my morning walk with coffee in hand, picked a zucchini, popped a cherry tomato in my mouth and noticed how heavy the air was. I reminded God how badly we need rain. By afternoon as I wandered out to the mailbox the sun was hiding but it was still so hot. “hey, God, we sure could use some rain.“ I carried the trash out to the barrel in the evening and I thought “It’s gonna rain. Oh, how we need it!”.
Sure enough, I was cleaning up the kitchen and notice the chickens all run for cover at once. I dropped what I was doing and ran outside. A downpour! Most of that would just run off the hardened earth but it was better than nothing. I sat down in the old wooden chair by the door, glad I’d found it at the garage sale. I just sat there and soaked it all in. There was some distant thunder but the rain song came from the rain hitting all those leaves of the many trees surrounding our house as the reached out the gather in every drop.
I was only sitting under an overhang so now and then I’d get some cool spray but mostly the rain was coming straight down. The smell was fabulous, too. Did the rain smell like cilantro? Yes, it was pounding my herb garden and the plants were giving up their scents readily.
It moved though quickly and in less than ten minutes of heaven on earth I found myself wandering bare foot through the fresh and tender grass. Only this morning it had been dry and hot. Amazing what a drink will do. The rain gauge registered only about an eight of an inch.
But that was just the first chorus! It cooled things off a bit for the fireworks show and held off ‘til it was over. The clouds made a beautiful backdrop for those fireworks! A gentle rain followed with showers all night long. Perfect for the thirsty, dangerously dry on the 4th of July world. Two inches!
Thank you God for giving us what we need when we need it. Would I have appreciated that rain if it had come as usual? Would I have cursed it for making mud where I want to dig and rotting my cherries before I could get to them? Why do we appreciate you and all you do so much more when we suffer first? Thank you , God, for this good rain.
All week it has been so hot and humid and rumors of that building into a thunderhead and somewhere in the city or the suburbs it had…but no rain for us. The lilies are trying to flower but the buds are wrinkling instead of blooming. The last cherries on the tree look like raisins hanging there.
Yesterday I took my morning walk with coffee in hand, picked a zucchini, popped a cherry tomato in my mouth and noticed how heavy the air was. I reminded God how badly we need rain. By afternoon as I wandered out to the mailbox the sun was hiding but it was still so hot. “hey, God, we sure could use some rain.“ I carried the trash out to the barrel in the evening and I thought “It’s gonna rain. Oh, how we need it!”.
Sure enough, I was cleaning up the kitchen and notice the chickens all run for cover at once. I dropped what I was doing and ran outside. A downpour! Most of that would just run off the hardened earth but it was better than nothing. I sat down in the old wooden chair by the door, glad I’d found it at the garage sale. I just sat there and soaked it all in. There was some distant thunder but the rain song came from the rain hitting all those leaves of the many trees surrounding our house as the reached out the gather in every drop.
I was only sitting under an overhang so now and then I’d get some cool spray but mostly the rain was coming straight down. The smell was fabulous, too. Did the rain smell like cilantro? Yes, it was pounding my herb garden and the plants were giving up their scents readily.
It moved though quickly and in less than ten minutes of heaven on earth I found myself wandering bare foot through the fresh and tender grass. Only this morning it had been dry and hot. Amazing what a drink will do. The rain gauge registered only about an eight of an inch.
But that was just the first chorus! It cooled things off a bit for the fireworks show and held off ‘til it was over. The clouds made a beautiful backdrop for those fireworks! A gentle rain followed with showers all night long. Perfect for the thirsty, dangerously dry on the 4th of July world. Two inches!
Thank you God for giving us what we need when we need it. Would I have appreciated that rain if it had come as usual? Would I have cursed it for making mud where I want to dig and rotting my cherries before I could get to them? Why do we appreciate you and all you do so much more when we suffer first? Thank you , God, for this good rain.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
I'm reading like crazy this summer. I haven't been reading the usual novels as I've enjoyed past summers. I love a good novel but there seems no time in my life for that. I am on a quest! There are so many things I am eager to get my eyes on! I need to learn, study, questions, soak up other ideas. Okay, I admit that I am a Guidepost Magazine junkie. I read it while we watch the World Cup games. The stories are sometimes hokey and sweet but there are often great quotes and tidbits from stories that I can use in my Junior High Bible study. I try to tie them in with a scripture to help the kids understand it better or how they can fit the lessons of a scripture into a real life situation. At that age (12, 13, 14) half the battle is getting their attention. No, it's more than half the battle...oh, but when you hook them they listen in a way that adults rarely do. They hunger for God and to understand. They need him and they know it. They haven't reached that stage where they think can do without him.
It depends which chair I am sitting in. "Guidepost" in the livingroom recliner but in my reading chair I have recently read, "Velvet Elvis" by Rob Bell. I had seen three of his mini-films that we had used in the Wednesday Youth worships and Bible studies; "Kickball", "Luggage" (that's impact!) and the incredible "Dust". When I ran across his book I snapped it up. Wow! Lot's of food for thought and controversy there. There is so much truth in it and also a lot of stuff I will have to chew on awhile. Definitely food for thought...unless you are afraid to think about what God, Jesus, the Bible and Christianity really mean. I can't imagine that...but then I'm Methodist and that's what it is all about for me ☻... growing closer to The Truth....that's the God-truth not the Man-truth or the American-truth.
So, while in my reading chair I am now reading a book that I don't know how it got on my bookshelf. I was grazing my library and the title caught my eye. "Does God Believe in You?: Developing Spiritual Self-Confidence" by Keith R. Anderson. I pulled it out and started reading.
I am fascinated since this is just what I need to be reading right now (it's a God-thing).. I have been having a bit of a spiritual crisis as far as wondering if there is any way that I could possibly even figure out God's plan for me... let alone to live up to it! Am I too old? Did I miss it? It is an easy-read but offers more to think about so I am limiting myself to one chapter a day so that I can ruminate on it and how it speaks to me in my life right now.
Upstairs I have a copy of "Cure for the Common Life" by Max Lucado. Pretty boring at first. Heard it before and, yes, I know that God calls each of us, but around chapter 4 I began to see that it was fitting in with what I am looking for...how to find out what I'm to do and why and, well... I'm still reading.
Oh, I wish I could read all day every day...but then when would I serve the God that gave me everything and expects me to go out there into the world and love it and glorify him? Can I figure out this balancing act of learning and teaching and getting with God and serving him? It's not rhetorical... I'm looking for answers.
It depends which chair I am sitting in. "Guidepost" in the livingroom recliner but in my reading chair I have recently read, "Velvet Elvis" by Rob Bell. I had seen three of his mini-films that we had used in the Wednesday Youth worships and Bible studies; "Kickball", "Luggage" (that's impact!) and the incredible "Dust". When I ran across his book I snapped it up. Wow! Lot's of food for thought and controversy there. There is so much truth in it and also a lot of stuff I will have to chew on awhile. Definitely food for thought...unless you are afraid to think about what God, Jesus, the Bible and Christianity really mean. I can't imagine that...but then I'm Methodist and that's what it is all about for me ☻... growing closer to The Truth....that's the God-truth not the Man-truth or the American-truth.
So, while in my reading chair I am now reading a book that I don't know how it got on my bookshelf. I was grazing my library and the title caught my eye. "Does God Believe in You?: Developing Spiritual Self-Confidence" by Keith R. Anderson. I pulled it out and started reading.
I am fascinated since this is just what I need to be reading right now (it's a God-thing).. I have been having a bit of a spiritual crisis as far as wondering if there is any way that I could possibly even figure out God's plan for me... let alone to live up to it! Am I too old? Did I miss it? It is an easy-read but offers more to think about so I am limiting myself to one chapter a day so that I can ruminate on it and how it speaks to me in my life right now.
Upstairs I have a copy of "Cure for the Common Life" by Max Lucado. Pretty boring at first. Heard it before and, yes, I know that God calls each of us, but around chapter 4 I began to see that it was fitting in with what I am looking for...how to find out what I'm to do and why and, well... I'm still reading.
Oh, I wish I could read all day every day...but then when would I serve the God that gave me everything and expects me to go out there into the world and love it and glorify him? Can I figure out this balancing act of learning and teaching and getting with God and serving him? It's not rhetorical... I'm looking for answers.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
Hipolito was living alone in the FEMA trailer parked next to his home. There was a wheel chair ramp going up to it for his wife but she had had to leave since she could not find the kind of care she needed there after Hurricane Katrina had drown their neighborhood. Hipolito was a sad, elderly man. They had left for higher ground but their home had been destroyed. His wife's doctor had stayed... and died. Hipolito told us that he had been a kind man.
He asked us what had happened to his hardwood oak floors that had been there. The oak had been pulled up and thrown out by a group before us. They'd been swollen and warped and ruined in the flood. You could literally see the ground beneath his home between the boards and in the empty nail holes. The group before us had put up insulation (there had never been any before), hung sheetrock and painted. A volunteer electrician was working on it. I think the group before that had given him a roof. It was finally falling into place for him.
The group before us did the sheetrock and it is the worst sheetrocking I've ever seen. The walls in the livingroom looked as if they had not even been sanded but they had already had a coat of paint so there was little we could do. We have had to change our thinking a bit in regard to remodeling. Having to cut corners because one doesn't have the money or the equipment and especially the time to do things "right". They want to be living in their homes. Hurricane season is upon them again and they want to start living normally in their own finished homes. We all did the best we could..
Hipolito had paid two different contractors ($1800 each) to do plumbing so he could get back into his home. Both had taken his money and run. It's hard to understand that someone would pay up front for a job to be done... especially twice. But he was desperate to get his home in order, to have a home, to get his wife back with him. Desparate people grasp at straws. Desparate people attract unscrupulous contractors and apparently they are plentiful around these parts.
We painted the trim in the livingroom and all of the dining room and set his kitchen cabinets and sanded some sheetrock and scraped up sheetrock mud off the livingroom floor and painted a bedroom floor... and they set his toilet and got it working!
We had worked on Hipolito's house all morning and then had to leave for home that afternoon. We left him, so grateful to have more of his home ready and yet,so sad at all that he had lost.
(More Mission Trip memories: our own little flood, Katrina Flood, First United Methodist Church of Kearney, Gautier United Methodist Church, Ander's house, Miss Martha & Miss Ruby roofs, "Mississippi Manicures", Flood damage, Gautier, Mississippi, Biloxi hurricane destruction, coming home, Mississippi Hurricane Relief Mission Trip)
He asked us what had happened to his hardwood oak floors that had been there. The oak had been pulled up and thrown out by a group before us. They'd been swollen and warped and ruined in the flood. You could literally see the ground beneath his home between the boards and in the empty nail holes. The group before us had put up insulation (there had never been any before), hung sheetrock and painted. A volunteer electrician was working on it. I think the group before that had given him a roof. It was finally falling into place for him.
The group before us did the sheetrock and it is the worst sheetrocking I've ever seen. The walls in the livingroom looked as if they had not even been sanded but they had already had a coat of paint so there was little we could do. We have had to change our thinking a bit in regard to remodeling. Having to cut corners because one doesn't have the money or the equipment and especially the time to do things "right". They want to be living in their homes. Hurricane season is upon them again and they want to start living normally in their own finished homes. We all did the best we could..
Hipolito had paid two different contractors ($1800 each) to do plumbing so he could get back into his home. Both had taken his money and run. It's hard to understand that someone would pay up front for a job to be done... especially twice. But he was desperate to get his home in order, to have a home, to get his wife back with him. Desparate people grasp at straws. Desparate people attract unscrupulous contractors and apparently they are plentiful around these parts.
We painted the trim in the livingroom and all of the dining room and set his kitchen cabinets and sanded some sheetrock and scraped up sheetrock mud off the livingroom floor and painted a bedroom floor... and they set his toilet and got it working!
We had worked on Hipolito's house all morning and then had to leave for home that afternoon. We left him, so grateful to have more of his home ready and yet,so sad at all that he had lost.
(More Mission Trip memories: our own little flood, Katrina Flood, First United Methodist Church of Kearney, Gautier United Methodist Church, Ander's house, Miss Martha & Miss Ruby roofs, "Mississippi Manicures", Flood damage, Gautier, Mississippi, Biloxi hurricane destruction, coming home, Mississippi Hurricane Relief Mission Trip)
The third house was Ander's. Carol and Andy were going to paint there while the rest of us went on to roof at Miss Ruby's. Carol was a bit worried, unsure about being left there so we decided we'd all go on in and check it all out; see what needed to be done, how many workers to leave behind.
We were pulling up to the house in a nice little neighborhood near the shore in Pascagoula, Mississippi. There was a FEMA trailer in the front yard and a big black man came bursting out. He paced outside the bus as we parked, opened the doors and all tumbled out. He grabbed each one of us and hugged us... a big ol' heartfelt bear hug. His wife was inside and showed us around to all that needed done. Groups before us had gotten it to the stage of painting. Everything in their house had had to be replaced.
Carol and Andy painted there and later more of us joined the effort. Ander (real name was Andrew but he said his mama called him Ander and we should, too.) was a reall chatty guy. He had a deep accent that we had some trouble understanding but he was patient about it and repeated at will. He and his family had been at home when the hurricane hit. They had ridden out hurricanes before but Katrina's number popped up as it hit the shores and it hit harder than predicted. His home flooded instantly with the wall of water. The local lagoon also flooded with it so that was in the water, too. He said he was not afraid for himself but for his wife and his grandson. The water came up to Ander's neck and he had to hold his Grandson above his head. They could not escape their house until the waters receded. They survived... but their house was in shambles.
The house was unairconditioned and so hot and stuffy! We were all soaked with sweat. Ander never lifted a hand to help but kept us entertained the whole while. His wife wanted us to paint her laundry room and her garage but we moved on to those in more need at that point. Ander climbed onto the bus to thank us one more time and mad John write down each of our names so he could "put it in the newspaper".
We were pulling up to the house in a nice little neighborhood near the shore in Pascagoula, Mississippi. There was a FEMA trailer in the front yard and a big black man came bursting out. He paced outside the bus as we parked, opened the doors and all tumbled out. He grabbed each one of us and hugged us... a big ol' heartfelt bear hug. His wife was inside and showed us around to all that needed done. Groups before us had gotten it to the stage of painting. Everything in their house had had to be replaced.
Carol and Andy painted there and later more of us joined the effort. Ander (real name was Andrew but he said his mama called him Ander and we should, too.) was a reall chatty guy. He had a deep accent that we had some trouble understanding but he was patient about it and repeated at will. He and his family had been at home when the hurricane hit. They had ridden out hurricanes before but Katrina's number popped up as it hit the shores and it hit harder than predicted. His home flooded instantly with the wall of water. The local lagoon also flooded with it so that was in the water, too. He said he was not afraid for himself but for his wife and his grandson. The water came up to Ander's neck and he had to hold his Grandson above his head. They could not escape their house until the waters receded. They survived... but their house was in shambles.
The house was unairconditioned and so hot and stuffy! We were all soaked with sweat. Ander never lifted a hand to help but kept us entertained the whole while. His wife wanted us to paint her laundry room and her garage but we moved on to those in more need at that point. Ander climbed onto the bus to thank us one more time and mad John write down each of our names so he could "put it in the newspaper".
"Helping one family at a time" that's what they are trying to do in the face of the daunting need left by the hurricanes last fall. I've been thinking about the people waiting for new roofs and interior repairs; people who have been on a list for months and months patiently living in homes wearing weathered blue tarp scarves, or among the bits and pieces of remodeling being done or nesting in their FEMA trailers.
We first met Miss Martha. (She really wasn't a "miss" but we soon learned that everyone down South is "Miss" or "Mr", even with first names.) She was thrilled and surprised, having been bumped up the list due to the discovery that the guy above her was actually a landlord wanting his rental property fixed for free. We started at her house while she was still at work. (She works for a doctor) We were novices at roofing with a little experience among us but we kicked right in. The first part of the job took no brains or skill...just a lot of tedious, back-bending effort. We tore off her old roof.
It was apparent immediately that the building codes were crazy-off from what we are used to here in Missouri. We were told later that some of the houses were built before there really were many codes. Anyway, her roof was made of 1/4" plywood on 24" centers and old. It was wavy as could be between the rafters and so weak that we didn't dare let Andy up on the roof. He'd have dropped right through to her kitchen! Johh insisted on going up but was pretty careful to keep his feet on the rafter boards. The rest of us walked at will but every now and then you'd hear a "WHooooaa..." as someone stepped into a soft spot and dipped precariously low.
There was one place that a tree had gone through and we replaced it with 2 sheets of solid plywood. The whole roof really needed it but we were there to get things fixed a.s.a.p and we had to remember that they don't have the snow on their roofs that makes it neccessary for ours to be so sturdy.
The roofing was so weak and old that it tore off in small pieces and strips leaving the nails behind. The tarpaper below was in the same condition and was stuck to the plywood below. It came off in tiny pieces mostly that had to be picked off by hand and then swept off. The nails had to be pulled out with a hammer or popped off by brute force with a shovel. We tried to send all the debris to the front of the house where our ground crew of 3 moved it all to within 3' of the curb where it would be picked up by the city.
We did end up throwing some of it off the back because it was just too much effort to drag it up and over the peak of the roof. The back yard was secured by a tall chain link fence with a locked gate. Miss Martha's house butts up to the housing project in the area. Her airconditioner was chained to the ground. We think she probably had good reason to have her backyard locked up but Tom figured out that he could just remove the pins in the hinge of the gate and we got right in for clean up. We had a giant magnet on a pole for retrieving the jillions of nails that went over the side with the rest of the debris.
We had only worked for the afternoon since we had been on the bus all morning getting to Gautier, Mississippi. At the end of the day we were very hot and very tired. It had been in the upper 80°s on that roof and we had really felt it. My back was aching from all the bending and effort with the nails/shovel. Everyone had worked well together and worked hard!
Day 2~ We started earlier so we could bet a jump before the heat. Miss Martha was leaving for work and was so glad to meet us. The first thing she said was how grateful she was and then she asked if there were any black people in our group. We told her there were not. (we didn't tell her that there are only 2 black (1/2 black) members of our whole church and not many more than that in our whole community) She told us she was disappointed...that all the people they had seen coming to volunteer...there were no blacks among them. We didn't know what to say. I don't understand that myself. But she was still, oh so grateful. She wanted to know each of our names. She left a note inside stating her gratitude. (she left her house open for us to use the bathroom) I left her a note telling her we were just trying to do what God expects us to do; welcomed the opportunity. The next day Miss Martha called the church to thank them for sending her angels.
We finished her house and cleaned up as best we could. I am afraid her lawn mower will find a few of the nails that we surely missed picking up. We spread a tarp on the grass below for the roof debris at the next house. It worked so much better... although we almost always filled it way too full before dragging to the curb.
Miss Ruby was the next homeowner we worked for. She was home while we worked on the first day and glad to see us but somewhat reserved. Her roof had four layers that had to be removed! We invited her to dinner with us and she accepted. It was taco salad night and it was good. We ate the delicious Taco Mountains and tried to make conversation with Miss Ruby. She works at the shipyard in the Maintenance Dept....lucky to be in that department since many others have been laid off. We made small talk. I asked her where she worshipped and she opened up. I think her reservations toward us came from maybe thinking that we would be condescending toward her, maybe even toward all those down there. You know, "Oh, how we came to help you poor needy people. Oh, aren't we wonderful." BUt when we got to talking about our churches, about our worship, suddenly we weren't black or white, we weren't rich or poor, we weren't Northern or Southern...we were just God's children. Christians one and all... just doing what we are called to do.
(More Mission Trip memories: our own little flood, Katrina Flood, First United Methodist Church of Kearney, Gautier United Methodist Church, Ander's house, Miss Martha & Miss Ruby roofs, "Mississippi Manicures", Flood damage, Gautier, Mississippi, Biloxi hurricane destruction, coming home, Mississippi Hurricane Relief Mission Trip)
We first met Miss Martha. (She really wasn't a "miss" but we soon learned that everyone down South is "Miss" or "Mr", even with first names.) She was thrilled and surprised, having been bumped up the list due to the discovery that the guy above her was actually a landlord wanting his rental property fixed for free. We started at her house while she was still at work. (She works for a doctor) We were novices at roofing with a little experience among us but we kicked right in. The first part of the job took no brains or skill...just a lot of tedious, back-bending effort. We tore off her old roof.
It was apparent immediately that the building codes were crazy-off from what we are used to here in Missouri. We were told later that some of the houses were built before there really were many codes. Anyway, her roof was made of 1/4" plywood on 24" centers and old. It was wavy as could be between the rafters and so weak that we didn't dare let Andy up on the roof. He'd have dropped right through to her kitchen! Johh insisted on going up but was pretty careful to keep his feet on the rafter boards. The rest of us walked at will but every now and then you'd hear a "WHooooaa..." as someone stepped into a soft spot and dipped precariously low.
There was one place that a tree had gone through and we replaced it with 2 sheets of solid plywood. The whole roof really needed it but we were there to get things fixed a.s.a.p and we had to remember that they don't have the snow on their roofs that makes it neccessary for ours to be so sturdy.
The roofing was so weak and old that it tore off in small pieces and strips leaving the nails behind. The tarpaper below was in the same condition and was stuck to the plywood below. It came off in tiny pieces mostly that had to be picked off by hand and then swept off. The nails had to be pulled out with a hammer or popped off by brute force with a shovel. We tried to send all the debris to the front of the house where our ground crew of 3 moved it all to within 3' of the curb where it would be picked up by the city.
We did end up throwing some of it off the back because it was just too much effort to drag it up and over the peak of the roof. The back yard was secured by a tall chain link fence with a locked gate. Miss Martha's house butts up to the housing project in the area. Her airconditioner was chained to the ground. We think she probably had good reason to have her backyard locked up but Tom figured out that he could just remove the pins in the hinge of the gate and we got right in for clean up. We had a giant magnet on a pole for retrieving the jillions of nails that went over the side with the rest of the debris.
We had only worked for the afternoon since we had been on the bus all morning getting to Gautier, Mississippi. At the end of the day we were very hot and very tired. It had been in the upper 80°s on that roof and we had really felt it. My back was aching from all the bending and effort with the nails/shovel. Everyone had worked well together and worked hard!
Day 2~ We started earlier so we could bet a jump before the heat. Miss Martha was leaving for work and was so glad to meet us. The first thing she said was how grateful she was and then she asked if there were any black people in our group. We told her there were not. (we didn't tell her that there are only 2 black (1/2 black) members of our whole church and not many more than that in our whole community) She told us she was disappointed...that all the people they had seen coming to volunteer...there were no blacks among them. We didn't know what to say. I don't understand that myself. But she was still, oh so grateful. She wanted to know each of our names. She left a note inside stating her gratitude. (she left her house open for us to use the bathroom) I left her a note telling her we were just trying to do what God expects us to do; welcomed the opportunity. The next day Miss Martha called the church to thank them for sending her angels.
We finished her house and cleaned up as best we could. I am afraid her lawn mower will find a few of the nails that we surely missed picking up. We spread a tarp on the grass below for the roof debris at the next house. It worked so much better... although we almost always filled it way too full before dragging to the curb.
Miss Ruby was the next homeowner we worked for. She was home while we worked on the first day and glad to see us but somewhat reserved. Her roof had four layers that had to be removed! We invited her to dinner with us and she accepted. It was taco salad night and it was good. We ate the delicious Taco Mountains and tried to make conversation with Miss Ruby. She works at the shipyard in the Maintenance Dept....lucky to be in that department since many others have been laid off. We made small talk. I asked her where she worshipped and she opened up. I think her reservations toward us came from maybe thinking that we would be condescending toward her, maybe even toward all those down there. You know, "Oh, how we came to help you poor needy people. Oh, aren't we wonderful." BUt when we got to talking about our churches, about our worship, suddenly we weren't black or white, we weren't rich or poor, we weren't Northern or Southern...we were just God's children. Christians one and all... just doing what we are called to do.
(More Mission Trip memories: our own little flood, Katrina Flood, First United Methodist Church of Kearney, Gautier United Methodist Church, Ander's house, Miss Martha & Miss Ruby roofs, "Mississippi Manicures", Flood damage, Gautier, Mississippi, Biloxi hurricane destruction, coming home, Mississippi Hurricane Relief Mission Trip)
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