Hearts & Hands Travel Log & Reflections by Fr. Pat Genereux
Wednesday, February 11th... We (my wife Sue & I) left Burlington at about 8:30 a.m. with Chuck Lane and Robert Adams, who came the night before. We loaded cars in the middle of a cold winter rain storm... what a great start! By the time we got to Osceola where we met Bill Trotter, the rain had stopped. We drove through the rest of Iowa, then on through Missouri, Kansas and Oklahoma... & spent the night in Oklahoma City.
Thursday, February 12th... We left Oklahoma City about 8:30 a.m. and drove the rest of the way to Galveston. Somewhere in the middle of Texas, thing in the countryside started greening up. Spring is on its way... at least in this part of Texas. We arrived at the William Temple Episcopla Center (WTEC) at about 4:30 p.m. and after quickly unloading the car, I turned around and headed back to Houston to pick Alan up at the airport. Later that evening, we ate out at kin od a fast food seafood place called "The Spot" -- right on the Gulf, but as it was dark, we jut heard the waves. It was very mild and we loved being warm again. The rest of the party -- the three "Lukies" from Cedar Falls -- Dave Buck, Dick Wieck & Ken Cutts will arrive tomorrow night.
Friday & Saturday, February 13th & 14th... On Friday morning, we met with our site coordinators, Sam (a Texan), and Dave & Tom (two guys from Wisconsin), who shared some of the Hurricane Ike story with us and then took us to our work site. Our first task wa gutting the home of an older couple, who are not only dealing with being displaced by the hurricane, but are also dealing with the husband's cancer treatments and care... As we know from our experiences in Iowa, it is probably the rare family or individual who deals with just the effects of a particular disaster. Most are dealing with a multi-layered set of life issues.
It is warm & humid (for we Iowans). Bill is soaking wet and the rest of us are getting there. It is (as the team already knows from other work they have done, because thankfully most everyone has done this before, either at home, New Orleans, Mississippi or Central America) filthy, dirty work, but yet it is sacred work, a type of liturgy, as we enter into one of the most intimate parts of someone's life. So, we work with care even as we hack away at the remnants of their life. I am uneasy working too vigorously... for no matter how often one guts or clears out a disaster victim's home, you are adding new wounds to already wounded lives. It is like some necessary, but unwelcome surgical procedure. We know this pain is needed for future healing, but that doesn't make it easier.
When the 'owners' come around, you can see the pain & anxiety in their faces and in their eyes. Everyone defers to them when they are in the room you are working in. It is like being at a funeral and the family has arrived and conversation becomes muted as they approach the casket. So, we tone down our conversation. Sometimes, we work in silence... the only sound the clang of hammer on crow bar, the dull scraping of metal on wood as mod-infested sheet rock is removed and piles of debris begin to grow on the floor. Robert appears almost out of nowhere with a shovel and a wheel barrow and silently begins shoveling what is left of someone's bedroom into the wheel barrow. Then, he wheels it outside to be added to the small mountain of what is left of the houe, the owner's home. Sue talks with the wife and finds out that it was here they raised their children and some of that is what is in the pile out by the street. The wife is able to recover one of her cherished Christmas tree ornaments, part of a set she had been collecting over the years and she tells Sue, this is the only on left. I help the owner and a friend, who doesn't seem to know very much English, take down the ceiling fans... every piece of life that can be salvaged is...
More postings with news from Galveston coming soon...
Thursday, February 12th... We left Oklahoma City about 8:30 a.m. and drove the rest of the way to Galveston. Somewhere in the middle of Texas, thing in the countryside started greening up. Spring is on its way... at least in this part of Texas. We arrived at the William Temple Episcopla Center (WTEC) at about 4:30 p.m. and after quickly unloading the car, I turned around and headed back to Houston to pick Alan up at the airport. Later that evening, we ate out at kin od a fast food seafood place called "The Spot" -- right on the Gulf, but as it was dark, we jut heard the waves. It was very mild and we loved being warm again. The rest of the party -- the three "Lukies" from Cedar Falls -- Dave Buck, Dick Wieck & Ken Cutts will arrive tomorrow night.
Friday & Saturday, February 13th & 14th... On Friday morning, we met with our site coordinators, Sam (a Texan), and Dave & Tom (two guys from Wisconsin), who shared some of the Hurricane Ike story with us and then took us to our work site. Our first task wa gutting the home of an older couple, who are not only dealing with being displaced by the hurricane, but are also dealing with the husband's cancer treatments and care... As we know from our experiences in Iowa, it is probably the rare family or individual who deals with just the effects of a particular disaster. Most are dealing with a multi-layered set of life issues.
It is warm & humid (for we Iowans). Bill is soaking wet and the rest of us are getting there. It is (as the team already knows from other work they have done, because thankfully most everyone has done this before, either at home, New Orleans, Mississippi or Central America) filthy, dirty work, but yet it is sacred work, a type of liturgy, as we enter into one of the most intimate parts of someone's life. So, we work with care even as we hack away at the remnants of their life. I am uneasy working too vigorously... for no matter how often one guts or clears out a disaster victim's home, you are adding new wounds to already wounded lives. It is like some necessary, but unwelcome surgical procedure. We know this pain is needed for future healing, but that doesn't make it easier.
When the 'owners' come around, you can see the pain & anxiety in their faces and in their eyes. Everyone defers to them when they are in the room you are working in. It is like being at a funeral and the family has arrived and conversation becomes muted as they approach the casket. So, we tone down our conversation. Sometimes, we work in silence... the only sound the clang of hammer on crow bar, the dull scraping of metal on wood as mod-infested sheet rock is removed and piles of debris begin to grow on the floor. Robert appears almost out of nowhere with a shovel and a wheel barrow and silently begins shoveling what is left of someone's bedroom into the wheel barrow. Then, he wheels it outside to be added to the small mountain of what is left of the houe, the owner's home. Sue talks with the wife and finds out that it was here they raised their children and some of that is what is in the pile out by the street. The wife is able to recover one of her cherished Christmas tree ornaments, part of a set she had been collecting over the years and she tells Sue, this is the only on left. I help the owner and a friend, who doesn't seem to know very much English, take down the ceiling fans... every piece of life that can be salvaged is...
More postings with news from Galveston coming soon...
posted by Mission Team ~ Iowa at 1:20 PM
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