Tuesday, September 06, 2005

can we help?

We drove over to Dallas to Reunion Arena yesterday afternoon to see what use we could be for the Katrina survivors who were seeking refuge there. I’m still amazed by the immensity of the natural disaster. People scattered throughout our great state—I heard yesterday that every hotel between New Orleans and here is booked, and we’re some 500 miles away! So we drove over without any idea what we would or could do, but with a will to help. As soon as we turned on to Reunion Boulevard, the cars were stacked up, the barricades were set up, police were giving orders, and we could see some of the national guard in their cammies here and there. I rolled down the window when I got to the policeman and just asked, “Can we help?” He said, “Nope. They already have all the donations and volunteers they need. They’re still taking donations at Texas Stadium, though.” I said thanks and rolled the window back up. The kids asked, “So are we going to go to Texas Stadium?” It was rather inhibitive—it looked like there were a lot of people but that everything was blocked off. I felt small, late to the party, and insignificant. Why did I come down here anyway? Who do I think I am? But then I straightened myself.

“Kids, that man gave himself away. What did he say?”
“Uh, to go to Texas Stadium?”
“No.”
“That they don’t need any more volunteers?”
“Exactly. And now I know he wasn’t telling us the truth. Why?”
“Because you never have enough volunteers.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, what are we going to do?”
“We’re going to find a place to park a mile from here if we have to, and walk over here and help these people…somehow…I dunno.”

Once we got around the corner we saw it. Someone had a barbecue lit and was cooking hotdogs. People were EVERYWHERE! And then around the corner—a place to park. For free! I have never parked in downtown Dallas for free, I don’t care what I was doing. But the city had taped posterboard over the signs saying how much it was to park, and all the gates were up.

Under the parking garage at Reunion, they had a huge area set up with donations—everything from cold drinks and food to soap and perfume to shoes and clothing to books and toys. The first thing they told us was that these donations were all just from the good people of Dallas—not Red Cross or the Salvation Army or another relief organization! Actually, those organizations were all involved, but that's not what this was. They also had a big PA system set up with some Christians running it, making announcements and music, etc. (actually I wasn’t sure what kind of music I was listening to, but I finally figured out it was Christian rap). Some volunteers were braiding hair and giving foot massages and other things like that. We all found small ways to pitch in and help. I think Benjamin was most interested in what they were cooking, but I wouldn’t let him get any of the free food—we went back to the car for some chips and crackers we brought. And then I started noticing trash everywhere. Oh wow—I thought—someone is going to have to come back down here and pick up all this trash when everything is done—but then I thought—let’s do it now. So we did that. The next thing you know the guy made an announcement that they needed 10 men to go out to the dumpster and stomp down the trash. Grace later said, “I knew that you were going to do that, Daddy.” Of course she was right. One of the other guys stomping and sweating with me said “Heh, when I was a kid we did this for fun!” “Yeah,” I replied, “And now we’re doing it for…fun!” It truly was a joy. And I had a “leg of many colors” when it was all done, and I think somehow we all escaped without bee stings. (hehe)

The kids didn’t want to leave and couldn’t wait to go back, so we made another trip last night. There wasn’t nearly as much activity as in the afternoon, so we had a chance to talk to a few people. One woman was their with her toddler who was looking through the hill of toys. He was really cute. Grace had made some pillows to give away and so we made them an offer.

"Where are you from?” I asked.
“New Orleans.”
“Wow. So where are you staying now? In Reunion Arena?”
“No, we’re living at the Crown Plaza for two weeks.”
“oh really?”
“Yes, they are giving us a free room for two weeks.”
“Sweet. And after two weeks, then what?”
“I don’t know.”

I’m sure every single person who visited us has a different story, but every story in some way converges on Katrina. And of course every story converges back to THE story…the story of God.

I didn’t actually know what was going on inside the arena until last night. We went up and talked with one of the security guards at the main door. She seemed familiar, and as we talked we figured out that we had met at the Promise Keepers events—she was posted at section 115—that was it! She told us that there were about 2,000 people there sleeping on cots who had been bussed up from the Superdome. Earlier we saw some of those folks, and also some who had their own transportation and had made it out before the storm hit. They were all looking through the stuff and filling their Container Store bags with stuff for the next leg of their journey. I took some video and a few pictures. They had a bulletin board area on the front glass where a lot of people posted stuff—looking for a place to stay, offering a place to stay. It was amazing how many people were willing to take others in, and heart wrenching when people posted “missing a loved one” signs. I’m posting pictures of some of the signs, some in English, some in Spanish. I can only imagine that every bulletin board, electronic or otherwise, within 500 miles of New Orleans or Biloxi tells a similar tale.

I feel like God has given each of us an invitation in this. For some maybe it is to wake up. For others maybe to listen to what He’s been saying for some time. For some it’s to straighten up. For some it’s an offer to make a bold move. For some maybe it’s an offer to take a risk and help someone else. There are as many invitations and conversations as there are people. One interesting sign that brought tears to my eyes when I saw it said,

We are Americans first and Texans second.

Now that I think about it, we are humans first, children of God, image bearers. Of course we would take care of our brothers and sisters.



mass


helping out


no exemption for babies


cute kids


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my favorite sign


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