Earlier, I posted a perspective on the first evening of the tornado and how the City of Springfield responded in the early hours of that tragedy.  This posting is about my experiences as a volunteer in Joplin.

On the Wednesday evening following the tornado, my schedule cleared for Thursday. I knew that our church was putting together a work crew to help folks from our denominational churches in Joplin.  Via email, I found that there was room for one more volunteer . . . in fact, there was the message “there is ALWAYS room for one more volunteer.”  We met the next morning at Brentwood Christian Church at 8:00.  In a convoy of two vans and a car, we headed for Joplin with our final destination the First Christian Church of Joplin.

As we drove in the eastern edge of Joplin, it simply looked normal.  We could not see any damage or evidence of the tornado.  Car dealership were open; the cars were shining; there were balloons tied on them.  Then, at one point, we came up over a bit of a hill and could see St. John’s Hospital across the way.  The dark hulk of a previously active and well-lit medical center was a very sobering sight.  Drapes and furniture were hanging out the windows.

A few blocks further on and we began to see evidence of wind damage.  There were chunks of banners, corrugated plastic, and corrugated metal pieces wrapped around light poles and telephone poles.  This continued for a few blocks until we arrived at the church.  Beth, the senior minister, was truly getting a trial by fire.  She had been at the church for about eight months and was only about ten months out of the seminary.  This was her first full-time assignment.

She had us complete the volunteer forms and then told us to get braced for what we were going to see and deal with.  She mentioned that there was a lot of survivor’s guilt in Joplin.  People were wondering why they were spared when there was so much damage and death around them. 

We headed for our assigned locations, assisting members of our denomination with the clean-up.  We left the church in our convoy and then we turned the corner into the tornado zone.

I have never seen anything like it.  There were no trees taller than five feet and those had no bark nor leaves left.  In fact, the skyline met the horizon like it does out in Kansas or Nebraska.  In the Ozarks, normally you see trees whichever way you look.  But in the tornado zone in Joplin, there’s not there.

Incidentally, I am fairly familiar with Joplin, but I was completely turned around.  I didn’t know what street I was on—there were no recognizable buildings left standing.  None of the businesses had commercial signs—they had all been ripped off and scattered.  Most of the business buildings were severely damaged—walls were down, windows were non-existent, doors were laying in the street.  There were a few buildings with the windows already boarded up.  At others, a few people were stacking inventory in the back of an SUV or pickup. (No, not looting—there were two policemen there at the corner.)

It was not until after we exited the zone that I saw a street sign.  We had been on Main Street.  I’ve been in and around Joplin for years and am familiar with that older part of town.  But it was completely unrecognizable.  There were no landmarks any more.  It was oddly disorienting.

Another image that sticks in my mind is that I didn’t see any Joplin police vehicles.  I know some had to have been destroyed and I assume the remaining vehicles were active in the residential areas.  What I did see were police cars from all over the area:  Springfield (of course!), Carthage, Eureka, Cassville, Kansas City, Sedalia. 

Most of the officers were stationed at corners to help with traffic control.  All power was interrupted, so none of the traffic signals were working.  However, all drivers were carefully observing the 4-way stop rules.  I did notice that drivers were really driving in a courteous manner.

When we arrived at our location, the lady who lived in the house came out to greet us.  She insisted that she was alive, she was ok, and that we should go help someone who really needed the help.  She only relented after we explained that the trees that were on her house and the neighbor’s house had taken out the main power line and that power could only be restored to the entire neighborhood when we cleared the debris.  Once she learned that it was necessary to help her neighbors, she was fine with the help.

There was a privacy fence running along the side of her driveway that consisted of six panels.  Only two panels were still in the yard.  I have no idea where the remaining four landed. A panel 4’ x 6’ can be deadly when it’s airborne.

Toward the end of the assignment, the trees were cut off and dragged to the curb. We then started cleaning the debris from the yard.  Regardless of the material—whether it was paper, plastic, glass, or particle board—the pieces in the yard were no larger than 4” x 4”.  Everything was shredded into small pieces.  We kept raking and gathering and raking and ultimately filled about 14 extra-large bags.

While we were working, a group from the Lebanon High School Athletic Department came by distributing peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.  I don’t think a PBJ ever tasted so good.  A little later a second group of volunteers came by with cold bottled water.

A couple of hours later, trucks from Pizza Inn came by with hot, fresh pizzas.  They were giving them away to anyone who needed or wanted one.  A little later, a Baptist church group came by with hot hamburgers and hot dogs.  Volunteers were taking care of volunteers.  The one phrase I’ve heard most during the past week is “Neighbors helping neighbors.”  Aren’t really any other words.