Feb. 2, 2006
Remember the South
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This is a copy of my mother's form letter regarding her recent short mission trip to the South, devastated by Katrina. The town's name where we were is Bay St. Louis, Mississippi, forty miles east of New Orleans. This town endured extensive damage, the houses were reduced to piles of twisted wreckage. These people were without water for two weeks after the storm. They said they had been ignored by any government aid because the focus was on New Orleans. Their businesses were wiped out along with their homes ; they had no means of transportation out of the area,no way to call out; all lines were down. It appeared as if a tornado had ripped through the business area of Bay St. Louis on the main street, an area several miles long on both sides of the street. The storm pattern was different here than in the other towns, thus indicationg a tornado had followed the hurricane. The businesses were small, the homes possibly valued around $50,000.00. The stench was the worst here, as the piles of rubble had not been moved yet,in these last months. It is not possible to imagine the devastation here. The long flat bed trucks were lined up along the highway leading into the town. Not much activity was goin in, nor out. Where had they been taking the rubble , if any had indeed been taken out? Where would they put a whole town of garbage and rubble? They said it could not be burned, because of toxic waste. The billions of dollars in aid and relief said to have been provided by the government, did not appear to have been routed to Bay St. Louis. There were a few trailers on these lots. No people were seen in the area, and if they were there, they were staying because they had no income to support a lot payment elsewhere. These trailers were parked in a garbage dump of refuse and decay.Personal belongings were strewn about on the lots, including ;clothing hanging from the few tress that were left,a gym shoe, dishes, a copper planter, chairs, and Mardi Gras beads. Were these the Fema trailers? We do not know. There was no one around to ask... one sole survivor giving us his account of his experience, as he made an attempt to load a few items on a pick up. We left feeling that we had just visited a cemetary. Bodies are buried under all that rubble and may remain there for years. Gulfport The second town we visited, was a war zone of beautiful, big buildings torn to smitherenes. A gorgeous, white church had the main floor and all its lovely arched windows blown out. Next door was a slab with wreckage everywhere; an air conditioner was lying upside down, red brick columns tossed here and there, like children leave their building toys scattered on the floor. The bank building minus all windows ,had electric wires and cables hanging like spaghetti from the ceilings. The remains of a black statue chopped to pieces, with the face and upper torso separated, lying feet away.Perhaps a reminder of the city founder. Next door a red brick building minus all windows had venetian blinds twisted like cone shaped ornaments, still hanging and blowing in the wind.... Our headquarters were one mile north of the gulf at Mendenhall Mission. A Christian mission that served as a place of distribution for clothing and water to the Gulf area. The first night in Mendenhall it thundered all night. Our dorm roof finally gave in; rain poured in, we grabbed buckets to catch the excess rain. Some bed mattresses were thoroughly soaked, but our spirits were not. We were treated to wonderful Southern Gospel music at Mendenhall Bible Church. Since the southern basketball tournament was going on in Jackson, we saw a basketball game to put the Bulls to shame. The boys of the Genesis One school, at Mendenhall Mission, are recruited from schools from around the country. Their gentle manner brings them from behind, to tie the last quarter and get the winning point with ease. The coach had warned us of their spectacular talents, and this made the one hour drive worth our time. We knew the boys since we had been put up in their dorm. They sweetly and cordially welcomed us from day one with, "Good morning Maam, yes Maam, no Maam." Our cheering squad helped them along since we found that Chicagoans yell louder than Southeners....... This is just a small fraction of our week in the South. I could add an equal amount of words about the hospitality of these people, their gigantic hearts full of LOVE and Gratefulness...If we thought we were going there to help, we learned that they had much more to offer us, than we did to them. The indomitable spirit of these people accustomed to hardship, strife, and low income, taught us more about humility, unselfishness and love in one week ,then we might learn in a lifetime. |
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