THIS IS NOT SATIRE…

She was legally blind. Life moved in shadows around her. She lived alone.

That night, she awoke startled by an odd sound. Her feet slipped from under the sheet and searched for the slippers, but found instead cold water, ankle deep. She stood and walked toward the door, as the shadows of furniture moved around her and unknown floating objects bumped her bare legs. Mid-way across the room, the water lapped at her hips. By the time she reached the door, she swam, finally finding her footing in the front yard.

As she told me her story the day after, I handed her a bottle of water that had been given to me by the Southern Baptist Disaster Relief team that had established a command post at the Baptist church on the hill.

In the days that followed, a friend and I ran a volunteer courier service ferrying food, toiletries and cleaning supplies from the command post to the flood zone in the bed of his pickup truck.

The Southern Baptist Disaster Relief team converted the church gymnasium into a distribution center and institutional food service. The whole operation seemed to rise like Brigadoon from the mist, full-formed and well-oiled, as if it had always been there.

Wearing brightly colored t-shirts and hats that helped newcomers identify leaders, these men and women worked day and night providing not only basic needs, but comfort, encouragement, love and hope to people who suddenly owned three-sided houses carpeted with mud.

Several days later, as I arrived at the command post to get more supplies, I found the woman from another well-known aide agency who had set up shop alongside the Southern Baptists in the gym.

She leaned against the bricks. Her hand struggled to bring the cigarette to her lips. The fingers of the other hand burrowed into her tangled hair. The pressure…the stress…too much. She marvelled at how the Baptist team could take it.

Inside the command post, the bright shirts and hats still moved to an inner music. The room looked more organized, the workers more energetic, than the day they had arrived.

Fast forward to Oklahoma City…just after a bomb ripped open the federal building like a box of Cracker Jacks. In a parking garage, Southern Baptist Disaster Relief had assembled pallets of food, water and other essentials for the teams of rescue workers who exhausted themselves digging toward a whisper.

I went to the chaplain training session. Dozens of pastors and other church leaders were being prepared for the extraordinary work of ministering to firefighters and rescue workers as they recovered and regrouped before re-entering the shock zone.

On the flight into Oklahoma City, I had sat next to a freelance videographer for NBC. So, I asked the trainer if a chaplain was assigned to the news media village of RVs, scaffolding platforms and satellite-uplink trucks near the Murrah Building. He allowed me to take another man and spend an hour finding out if the news teams needed ministry.

A young TV reporter from a Los Angeles station was on the cell phone with his producer. Tears flowed as he begged to be sent home. Staring into the yawning maw of that building, hour after hour, had brought him to the edge of sanity. I followed the chaplaincy trainer’s guidance — mostly listening, sharing some comfort and hope from the Bible, praying for him and with him.

Back at the parking garage command post, a dusty firefighter downed a bottle of water as brightly colored t-shirts moved efficiently around him and cared for his needs.

Before Hurricane Katrina had finished her dance of death on the Gulf coast… Southern Baptist Disaster Relief had assembled two “incident command teams”, gathered supplies in staging areas and committed to provide at least 300,000 meals per day.

They’ll cooperate with workers of other faiths, as well as secular and government agencies, to provide what’s needed, when it’s need … all with an attitude of faith, hope and love.

You may contribute money to Southern Baptist Disaster Relief online, or by writing a check to “North American Mission Board” (memo: Katrina Relief) and mailing it to:
NAMB
P.O. Box 116543
Atlanta, GA 30368-6543

If you prefer to donate via PayPal, the Bible Fellowship Church Board of Missions is channeling 100 percent of PayPal gifts to Samaritan’s Purse.

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