As residents of southwest Missouri we’re accustomed to tornado warnings, the ominous colors moving across the Weather Channel maps, the flashing lightning and rumbling thunder that come from dark clouds moving over our home. Are those swirling clouds forming a funnel? Our fears became real not too far away in Joplin MO, when one of the worst tornadoes in U.S. history hit. Sadly it won’t be the last time, as tornadoes continue to hit like the runaway freight trains they sound like.
As the May 2011 storm approached, we watched the Weather Channel with trepidation, praying for those in the path of this storm. Death, destruction and heartbreak from the Joplin F5 tornado brought out volunteers who saw and were moved beyond tears and into action. To get into the debris zone, we rode the short buses – the ones for the challenged – and I was. This is a life-school I am not familiar with. I’m a slow learner, unable to comprehend the scope of this F5 tornado, which had pulled up grass, twisted gigantic chunks of metal, and shifted buildings off their foundations! House after house, block after block, mile after mile, just like the newscasters had told us. There were only a few tree trunks left, odd sentries placed here and there. Amazingly, some were sprouting; optimistic reminders to "Never, ever, ever give up".
Delivered to the high school and given safety instructions, I am distracted by all this wreckage, but trying to pay attention to more instructions: "Drink lots of water, put on sunscreen, wear the dust mask, gloves, and eye protection, and stay with your crew leader." I notice the sign on the ball field is twisted around what is left of a light pole, the windows of the school are blown out, and the walls are riddled with holes from flying debris bullets. More instructions…"Pick up shovels and rakes. Push a wheelbarrow, follow the leader". Silently our group walks into this disaster zone, each of us dumbfounded, taking pictures, whispering "Oh my!" We walk for blocks past devastation and cars that look like they have participated in a roller derby smash-up fest. Where to start? There is so much stuff…junk…twisted metal…mess… We pick up a tool and literally dig in. Think of the people who lived here – there is no basement, no inner room in which to take shelter. Dear Lord, how did they survive? We know the answer…159 did not.
Everything looks as if it has been run through a mulcher/shredder and mixed with dirt. We see bricks, dry wall, wires, building material; the pieces of people’s lives, all obliterated. We scoop up endless shovels of dirt, brokeness, and debris until each wheelbarrow is filled to over flowing. We scoop, scrape, dump, and repeat. We move this carpet of "tornado poop" into sorted stacks of trees, bricks, metal, construction material, or debris dirt. I’m thanking God that this disaster wasn’t mine as I work and sweat.
Volunteers work like little ants trying to push the dirt out of an anthill; sorting, piling, scraping, and digging. Instructed to clean up only front yards and sides, but not to go on the homeowners’ foundations or back yards. We bring debris to within ten feet of the street for big trucks to pick it up later. The volunteers arrive from all across the country and locally. Like in the movie Close Encounters of a Third Kind where the characters are compelled to get to Devil’s Tower in Wyoming, we come to this "Good Samaritan’s Vacation Destination". Volunteers share an inner urging to come, help, contribute time, provide a small civic duty, and try to make this world a little better by donating manual labor. We meet a couple from Louisiana who spent their week of vacation cleaning debris and sleeping at night on cots in a church just outside of town. A father and son from Milwaukee, another couple from Kansas City who parked their RV at a campground, and a 76 year-old man from Walnut Grove - all of them compelled to work without ceasing, coming together for the good of Joplin.
Nasty smells come slipping into our noses through the facemasks. It is a musty, dusty, mildew, rotting, decaying, and sometimes even a hint of death smell. We try to remember to stay up wind of the raking, scraping, and dust blowing that happens with every shovel dumped into the wheelbarrow. Why is it a surprise to see cockroaches skittering across this unlivable landscape? A little mouse runs across the yard. It has survived a tornado, and just when it must imagine it can’t get any worse, it gets squashed now by a shovel, it’s mouth gasping, wide eyed then tossed into the pile of debris. Across the yard someone sneezes and there is a chorus of "God bless you" but no pause in the work.
The volunteers embrace various jobs – raker, shoveler, wheelbarrow hauler, chain sawer, and large scrap carrier. The walkie-talkie-carrying leader keeps checking on everyone making sure we drink water, thanking us for the work we are doing. We volunteers work for hours chatting with each other. "Where are you from, how long have you been here, where is the water, where is the porta potty, when is lunch, there’s a church van with refreshments, the sweat is dripping in my eyes, Yes, doesn’t that sting? And there isn’t a clean scrap of my T-shirt to wipe it off either."
We work and hunger grows but the couple from Louisiana encourages us. "Wait till you taste the jambalaya. Church ladies have been cooking all week, and they are good cooks"! We walk back the few blocks to the high school happy to see lunch tents in the parking lot. Thankfully, there are porta potties. We have been drinking our bottles of water. But oh my goodness, the condition of the Hillbilly Porta Potties is deplorable! They are full, stinky, and swarming with flies. If only a tree remained to hide behind instead.
A delicious lunch and time to rest in the shade revives us. Our group returns to finish the clean up on that area. We ride the short bus back to our car parked at the university campus. My lesson of hard work, compassion for those who need help, restoration of the belief in the goodness of our fellow Americans, and knowing that there is still so much more work to be done is learned. I know God is good; we can and do recover from tornado destruction.
