Peace
Copyright 2013,
Kristi Crutchfield Cox
Just now, the sky darkened, the natural light that normally illuminates my home, almost seemed as if someone had put a cover over it, blocking out visibility. My heart quickened its pace, one text came through on my phone....
"Take shelter now".
Monday ravaged our state. Tuesday threatened us again. Being the industrious folks we are, we headed out, looking for where we could be helpful. Driving back through the debris, homes smashed, photos laying about, clothes waving in breeze, we saw one after another of folks picking up trash, hugging one another, supplies being moved. In the distance, we saw a church, and lots and lots of vehicles and insurance trucks. We drove off the highway across the grass to get to the service road, exiting on 27th, before getting to the Warren theatre where briefings and media chaos apparently were.
We found a sanctuary.
First Baptist Church of Moore, I 35 and 27th St.
I am not religious, I am spiritual.
Walking in, we simply went to the first person who looked official and said "Hi, here are our credentials, we are here and we are counselors. We have shovels, gloves, masks and strong shoes. "Where do you need us?"
We passed a desk, moved into an atrium area, and saw tables, people moving about, signs for showers available, and a medical center off to our right. A man passed by, his arms loaded with bags of food and clothing, a young girl held onto his hand as he clutched his world in his arms.
Every First Baptist Church of Moore volunteer was very busy. They were bringing food, sorting clothes, holding the hand of a survivor. They were playing with kids who were learning to laugh again.
They were finding showers for folks who still wore the clothes they fled in. They prayed with some who sought the comfort of God.
I noticed the prayer beads on her wrist. Her slight frame moving quickly from first one then another, checking a wound, listening for the heart beat. Her energy stayed constant, calming as she moved into greeting and tending to the lost, the confused, and the temporarily broken.
I found it beautiful that a Buddhist doctor was the triage savior in a Baptist church.
Apparently, religions can coexist in tragedy and hope.
Keystone foods served up tacos, burgers, and sandwiches all day, never stopping. Beverly's Chicken brought soul food.
Moore Police brought smiles to folks, offering support. Moore Fire Department arrived with emegency help. They even stopped to make a baby smile.
Furry heads walked around, they wore vests and their vests had purpose. HALO Therapy Dogs and International Therapy dogs and their handlers walked among children and adults, offering love and comfort, smiles, and cold noses that nudged reluctant hands, till a peace settled as an exchange of animal and human understanding emerged...connected.
I originally posted this as a narrative of observations from the day, I am altering these to reflect what others at different sites said about what they observed to protect the people I met this day.
Fingers rubbed raw from pulling bricks and mortar, faces relieved when they felt a hand grasp theirs and whisper..."can I help you?"
Some sat quitely, looking at no one. Struggling with allowing the hand reaching out and yet yearning to grasp it, to feel they had a friend.
I witnessed a deep long certainty in God's grace in both voice and on faces etched by time and wisdom, their faith echoed in their words of comfort to their families.
I felt my own anger at God.
People held strangers as they cried, becoming connected in their souls.
And eventually, found a small, small kernal of hope.
Many that I met and heard about from others around the city, from volunteer to survivor had lost everything but their lives. Some lost loved ones. The only pictures left were on phones. People recounting what their homes had looked like, of first homes bought, of beds they had saved for to buy their children. Of flower beds and memories. Of their children's awards that hung on walls.
Of lives scattered.
Of hiding in bathrooms, of feeling roofs lift, of storm shelter doors flying open, of screaming and terror.
Of realizing they had lived. Of walking for miles injured, because they could not drive their cars, of large objects hitting their heads, their hands touching the spot.
Of asking people in vests who looked official with names that are supposed to mean "help". Of being told, "here's a number to call, you have to go to this place, we don't have that."
Of alot of good intentions but scattered management.
First Baptist Church of Moore on 27th and I 35 became a haven.
Food, shelter and medical help were there, coordinated by this church and other area organizations.
And even just people showing up to help.
Were there moments of frustration?
Yep.
I saw a nurse run from one "emergency relief vehicle" which will remain unamed, then to another looking for thermometers and more medical supplies. While they looked like ambulances, they had nothing useful in them. I saw another counselor walk up to someone in a vest who had a walkie talkie asking if they could radio for supplies... and then walk on to the next person to ask. One vested man sat down heavily, the weight of every call he had made, every radio sqwuak sent, of supplies needed but difficult to locate.
We started calling and posting on Facebook to find what we needed.
And by the end of the day, the Buddhist doctor who had worked relentlessly from 2Am till night, finally got back up.
Maybe relief groups should start coordinating with WILLING hotels for immediate housing with tax deduction and room coverage so basic housing is covered. Maybe FEMA should have an actual table and computer to take info, not hand out a card to confused scared folks.
The insurance adjusters lined up to sign in. They immediately took folks, sat them down, gave coffee, water, and said "what can we do to help you".
In the meantime...regular people, houses of worship, facebook groups, radio stations, schools, and regualar folks standing in line at convenience stores were taking care of our own.
And in the folks we met, I saw the amazing strength and beauty of survival, love, and helping each other.
To all my fellow Oklahomans, to those I met yesterday, to those driving Uhauls with supplies, to those manning churches, to those on rescue crews, to the police trying to manage chaos on the streets and to those just showing up as individuals and asking..where can we help...thankyou and peace and love.
And to the survivors...we love you, we are here, and you are not alone.
Be safe, peace and love from Oklahoma,
Kristi Cox, aka
The Patriotic Hippie.
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