Remembering their names...

I've just returned from my second trip this year to the Katrina-ravaged Gulfport, MS area. I'm still overwhelmed...not only by what I saw, but also by what God spoke to me this week. I'm still sorting it all out and writing it down always seems the best way for my "sorting process" to work, so...that's what I'm going to do. :-) It may be a bit muddled, because it's definitely NOT sorted yet!

I've recently become a fan of the new Battlestar Galactica series and one episode in particular had a profound effect on me--one of the characters made a statement early in the episode about not being able to remember the names of all their fallen fighter pilots and not really thinking it was important because they were gone, but at the end, she stands and honors their memory by reciting their names. That spoke strongly to me, because I had just recently wandered around a VERY old cemetery, looking at the names of long-dead relatives and strangers, and had a conversation about who would remember me...and how I would be remembered when all that remained of my earthly life was nothing more than a name on a tombstone.

The people I met this week aren't just "Katrina survivors" or "homeless men" or "FEMA trailer park residents" or "God's Katrina Kitchen volunteers"--they are individuals, fearfully and wonderfully made, loved and known by the same God who made, loves and knows me. They have faces and lives and stories that are, for the most part, forgotten by the media and the ignorant who don't have a clue about the magnitude of destruction and believe that everyone's gone back to "normal" life (BIG "issue" with me that you'll probably hear more about later, but that's not the story for today). I want to remember those names. And their stories.

Neil: He came to Gulfport from Florida because he heard there were construction jobs paying good money. He worked for a contractor for a week, sleeping on the guy's couch because he had nowhere else to go. The contractor couldn't/wouldn't pay him for the work he'd done and Neil refused to continue to work without being paid, so consequently, he no longer had a place to stay. Someone directed him to God's Katrina Kitchen on Wednesday...he hadn't eaten for two days. I fed him lunch. And then dinner. And he stayed for our group's worship service that night. He wanted to work as a volunteer for GKK for a place to stay and hot meals. He owns a bicycle, the clothes he's wearing, and carries a garbage bag of personal items. He sleeps in a deep ditch near GKK. (The nighttime temperatures were around 20-30 degrees each night we were there, btw.) He is tired and discouraged and wonders where God is in all that's happened to him.

Terry: Originally from Michigan, he came to Mississippi from Colorado, where he sold souvenir rocks mounted on wooden plaques (he gave me two of them because I was his friend). He's staying with friends in an apartment near GKK and got a job Friday doing concrete work. He had asked me earlier in the week to ask God to help him find a job, because he thought God probably listened to me more than He listened to him.

Kevin: He lives in Pass Christian and was a part-time volunteer at GKK before the move to Gulfport. I met him Wednesday--he told me that he had just ridden his bike from about 20 minutes west of Pass Christian (at least ten miles) and was looking for a job. When he came in Friday, he had gotten a job at a Subway down the street. He also told me that he had missed breakfast that morning because his water (he lives in a FEMA trailer) had frozen--his space heater doesn't produce enough heat to keep the water pipes from freezing when the temperature drops into the 20s. He asked me if I liked poetry and produced a notebook of poems he had written--one was entitled "B-4" and was a list of things that had happened, both throughout the Bible and in his own personal life--ie, "before Katrina hit Pass Christian, etc..." and the last line of each stanza was "a way had already been made". Powerful stuff. His faith has carried him through some very rough times.

Otis: All I know of Otis is his name...his mental faculties are lacking so much that it was hard to get more than a few sensible words at a time out of him. He brought me a Bible one day, opened to the book of Jeremiah and asked me to read it to him. When I was finished, he hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. He wanders in and out most of the day, talking to whomever will give him a few minutes, smiling at everyone, chattering to himself.

Steve: He's a cross-carrier...one of Arthur Blessit's "disciples", from California. He carries a 12' X 6' wooden cross on his shoulder, all across the country. When he came in Tuesday, he hadn't eaten for two days--some of our volunteers found him and brought him in for lunch. He came back that night for our worship service and I had the opportunity to quiz him--he's on a ten-year "mission" to tell people about Jesus by carrying the cross along highways and interstates and stopping to speak whenever someone gives him an opening.

Jeff: Born in Bossier City, he moved to Florida with his mom, then to Knoxville, then back to Florida, then to Gulfport to do construction work. I heard his entire life story as I waited in line for breakfast Thursday morning. He told me that he had been working construction in Gulfport, making good money, but blowing it all on drinking and drugs...knowing all the time that he wasn't living the way God would want him to live. He walked into GKK for lunch one day, felt God's presence and knew that he belonged there. He left the good-paying construction job, moved into one of the GKK bunkhouses and went to work as an unpaid volunteer on one of the work teams, started going to a 12-step recovery program, has been clean and sober almost 2 months and positively RADIATES Jesus all over the place.

I won't forget.