Seeing Sparks of God's Love Flying

Kathy O'Brien is the pastoral associate of Glenmary's St. Jude Mission in Waldron, Ark. This reflection was written on Sept. 5, the day 78 of those made homeless by Hurricane Katrina arrived in Waldron.

After cleaning and waiting they arrived in the darkness of the night, received by those who were watching and waiting. Sixty came the first day. More to follow. They were the old, the young, the families, the ones alone, the crippled, the black—mostly black, the white, the ones who had waited at the Superdome, the ones who had faced the waters. They are the ones who saw the dead in the water, in the Dome, in the convention center. The ones who saw people pass them and do nothing to help. The ones who understood when the crowds went from cheering to being angry, to looting just to get food and water to survive. They wanted to talk and share their stories. They wanted to cry. Some just stared in disbelief. Some wanted to get jobs right away to begin rebuilding their lives. Some wanted to go home. All were orderly, quiet and very grateful.

They asked me to spend time with one woman in special need. I listened and encouraged her to talk, to tell her story. She was reluctant at first, but within an hour or so she had shared the horror of those days. Her 95-year-old husband had been left behind. He was in their house. She needed to get back—she needed to bury him. He was in the water, that dirty, smelly water. He must have been quite a guy. He was raised a Catholic and, though he rarely went to church, his wife said he prayed all the time. He prayed a lot that day.

He had insisted on weathering the storm at home. Then the water came. It came fast.Things in the house started to float. They tried to get to the fire escape to go to the roof but something blocked the way. In one of the rooms of the house, they got blocked in and could only hang on to each other and pray. She kept talking. He prayed. Something separated them in the darkness, and he said he wasn’t able to keep out of the water. Then she heard the sounds of his drowning and the deathly silence after as she called his name. Somehow, she wasn’t sure how, she got to the door and whatever had been blocking it was gone. She had to go under the water to get out the door. She found the fire escape. She showed the scars she got from trying to get through the attic to the roof. A neighbor helped her. Someone came with a boat to rescue them and take them to the Dome.

She really had little to say about all that. It was her husband's body floating in the water that brought the tears and feelings of horror. “I have to go home,” she said. “I have to bury him. Did I do enough to help him? Why didn’t I go too? Why am I alive? I am not really a religious person like he was.” No, maybe not. But this woman knew the Lord and understood and felt the consolation of knowing her husband was with the Lord.

She met Christ in Anthony who took care of her when he found her alone and grieving at the Dome and took her in with his family, looking out for her welfare. Was she meeting Christ today as so many people came to help, as others prayed with her and me, as she looked at me with the one eye she could see with, the other patched and irritated?

We met the suffering Christ in her. One woman’s story. But there were many more. What a wonderful miracle of the Kingdom to see the constant stream of people coming from this small town bringing clothing, food, fans. They came to clean, to cook, to organize, to get basic information, to take people to get medication, to try to locate and notify family. To just sit and listen and love. To pray.

The world has become small. The kingdom has come. Shelter the homeless, give drink to the thirsty, console the sorrowful, clothe the naked, feed the hungry… All are being done in abundance. Yes, and pray for the living and the dead, and bury the dead.

What are the words of the Gospel? Be compassionate as your heavenly Father is compassionate. Suffer with and embrace the kingdom. We talked today of Job, of Joseph, of Jesus, and we saw Job, Joseph, Jesus. The music of their names was French, Spanish, English, their skin a true rainbow from white to deep, dark black. Only once have I experienced someone concerned about the money, the organization and who should be in charge. Mostly people paid attention only to the needs, fears, questions of those newly arrived.

Will it last tomorrow as many go back to work and life as usual? Will the new neighbors be forgotten? Somehow I don’t think so. Friendships and human relationships formed fast. Already one young man was bringing his wife to meet an elderly Clarence and listen again to his story. We were also being promised a real New Orleans meal as there is an amateur chef in the group. I can foresee a bit of a Mardi Gras festival in this town this year. Many of these new arrivals will have to stay a long time.

The local people came from the Church of Christ, the Methodist church, the Catholic church, the Nazarene church—ecumenical Christianity in the flesh. Not many ministers but many people. Is this not really the Church? I think of the childhood rhyme: "This is the church, this is the steeple, open the doors and see all the people." The Church just moved out of the buildings and is alive and active through its people. This is mission!!!

As for myself, I am tired, a bit drained, but feeling so blessed and grateful to be a part of this. Smelling the kingdom, yes. Seeing sparks of God’s love flying all over the place, yes. I hear the gospel being proclaimed, especially in the elderly. God is in charge, he has a plan, beneath the tears.

In these people there is a strong faith. Jessie, in his late 80s, could have been one of the prophets of old as he reflected with the wisdom of his years and that Catholic training of his youth on all that God was doing and how we all have to look out for each other. Clarence, who had lived through World War II, used what he had seen and lived in the war to cope with what was happening. He said he felt compassion for those who did not have those experiences of death and destruction. Somehow, he said, those experiences made it a little easier to cope with what was happening.

Will I sleep tonight? Maybe. But I will pray with a different heart. Being in the midst of God’s people is quite different than seeing them in the news. This is no longer a distant need that one can just help by sending a check. We are experiencing Christ in our midst.

I noticed the reading from James in morning prayer, although I had no time for spiritual reading today. I have heard enough of the Lord’s voice in his people. I still need to pray evening prayer and just be quiet a while before trying to sleep. I would have loved to bring a couple people home with me tonight. But there are things they need that are better served in the shelter, at least for now. There is a community there. They would be too alone here.