Sheltering

TUESDAY
Yes, the electricity went out. Two days ago. We are still without power and I am sitting here in the dark, and the cold. I’m in front of the fireplace with candles surrounding me and I look like I’m trying to call some dead soul back from the grave. The neighborhood looks like a war zone. The ice weighted down everything – power lines and trees. There are giant broken limbs and entire halves of trees scattered in yards and across streets. Last night it was foggy, and driving through the neighborhood felt eerily surreal, like this was not my home at all. Our city has 218,000 people without power. It’s the largest loss of power in our state’s history. Power crews have been brought in from all over the country to help work the lines and restore electricity to the city and the state. Our house is so cold that I might actually be able to see my breath… if I could see. This morning, there was nothing to do but leave. And so we did. We went to church. Actually, we went to the church building, which had been amazingly transformed into a Red Cross shelter. The night before the building had been home to over 300 people from across the city. We arrived about 11 a.m. and were just there to meet our teenagers who were being dropped off by the people they had spent the night with. We weren’t prepared for what we saw. We had no idea. My friend Mary Ann, who also happens to be our Global Outreach director, walked into the room where we were standing and looking across the sea of people who were sheltering in our church. She had tears in her eyes so I asked her what was wrong. “It’s just a mass of humanity,” was all she could say. Kyle and I looked at each other in confusion. By the end of the day we completely understood. We didn’t leave. We were there all day. There was no way we could walk out of our church today. I looked around at all the weary faces, the crying babies, the old people who shuffled through with oxygen tanks and the groups of special needs adults that had been brought in by their caregivers. And in the midst of it there we were. All of us. The church. We were wearing lanyards with bright yellow tags that read “Volunteer.” We were talking to people, serving them food, carrying their babies, wiping away tears. Touching. Listening. Loving. There was no way we could leave.

Kyle and I sat down at the check-in desk that was located by the dozens of front doors that welcome people into Asbury United Methodist Church. And through those doors there was a steady stream all day long – a mass of humanity. They were cold, and one older woman sat with tears streaming down her face and said, “I just can’t do it any longer. I have a heart condition. I’m scared.” Single mothers came in with multiple children and they looked exhausted and in need of a shower. Sons and daughters brought elderly parents because they had no electricity either and the motels were full. A familiar looking older woman came in and began to fill out the intake form. “We’re glad you’re here,” I chirped. She looked up from the form with tears in her eyes and said, “This is my church. I go here. I don’t have anywhere else to go.” She and her husband were well-dressed, and I had to tell them that we didn’t have any cots left. “I don’t know if I can get up and down from the floor. I don’t know. We just don’t have anywhere else to go.” I didn’t know what to say.

Our building is three years old and we have a decorating committee that likes to keep it looking very polished and spotless and…decorated. It’s kind of a swanky place really. Not overdone, but people are often impressed with how put together it is. Today, there were diapers being changed and coffee spilled on the carpet in the Sunday school rooms. Some people had muddy shoes. People dragged their pallets and pillows and lay down on the carpeted areas beneath the giant sweeping staircases in our foyer. The bathrooms were a mess, and people were washing their faces and hair in the sink. There were all kinds of smells that converged and commingled all over the place. Our building has never been used in a more beautiful way.