Seeing Joplin, It's no Emerald City

Today was the first time I've been to Joplin, Missouri since the F5 tornado burst through town and changed the face of this city forever.  Trees that were nearly as old as Joplin itself were torn from the ground, their massive trunks uprooted and their roots standing taller then men,  gnarled like the arthritic fingers of a giant.  


Driving through the city it seemed all was normal, and then as suddenly as an irregular heartbeat, everything changed.  Roofs were missing, twisted cars were abandoned, massive piles of debris lined the streets, and in some areas rubble covered slab, making it  impossible to tell what had been.   The mission minded were all around, with vans, trucks and trailers laden with food, water, and clothing.  Spiritual advice was also readily available- I saw a Billy Graham trailer there, and in one debris filled parking lot a homemade banner was stretched across two telephone poles.  The hand painted words assured us that none of this was a surprise to God, and that He had a plan. 


 The church where we checked in for our volunteer shift was parallel to a fast food restaurant that had not been damaged by the tornado.  As customers exited the drive through they passed lines of people in the church parking lot who were there for a meal or clean water.  As I watched both lines move I wondered about the people in them, and what they were thinking.  The ones that still had jobs, and cars, and clothes, and were still able to eat at restaurants, were they thinking, "those poor people in line for water and toilets, that could have been me!"  And the families with nothing left but each other, eyeing those in line at the restaurant, wondering with grief and a tinge of envy, "Why couldn't that be me?"  


We spent part of our day stocking a food bank and helping distribute the contents.  One woman came in to get food and medical supplies for her mother who had been caught up by the tornado, breaking her leg in the process and requiring two surgeries.   After meeting several of the citizens I got online and read some news reports to fill in my knowledge blanks about this disaster.  Five hundred homes destroyed.  One hundred and forty-two lives lost.  When President Obama actually got out and walked among the ruins of this city, he won this people.  One impressed gentleman told me, "He didn't just fly over.  He came down.  He walked around."  I could tell his heart had been warmed.  


 Driving through the neighborhoods I feel like I've violated someones privacy.  I was not invited in, but these homes have literally been turned inside out for everyone to see.  One garage has the front half ripped off but we can see the back wall and a few tools still hanging on pegs.  I see their kitchen counters, their heirloom furniture, the paint they painstakingly picked out when they made their house a home.  Me, a total stranger.  I feel violated for them.  


Enough time has passed that although the destruction and chaos is still obvious, the businesses that were unaffected are humming, because even when it seems impossible, life does go on.  Things are coming together here, but the people of Joplin need everything we can give them.  They have suffered a tremendous loss.  If you can imagine the difficulty of losing all of your possessions, or of seeing your hometown ripped up like the letter of a spurned lover, or if you can feel for even a second the pain of losing just one person you hold dear- then you know it is impossible to love, serve, or give too much to these people after what they have been through.  It's the way for mankind to even out the score card of life.