Joplin, MO.

When the powerful tornado hit Joplin, Missouri on a Sunday evening in May, we were somewhere in Eastern Nevada or Western Utah. Spending most of our time outside and partially disconnected, the news of the devastation didn't heavily saturate our information intake in the days and weeks after. But at some point between then and our arrival in Joplin, we decided it was only appropriate to give a hand, if only for a few days. This decision brought upon us the most rewarding and humbling experience of the trip.

We rolled into town from the south, on our way to Wildwood Baptist church, which would house and feed us for the next two days. As we turned into the city, we first reached a vantage point of the hospital. The strength of the winds broke all the windows out, and apparently moved a part of the building off it's foundation. Moving towards our destination in Duquesne--the town bordering Joplin to the east--we travelled down Main Street, through a section the funnel crossed on it's path west to east. At this point, the weight of the devastation began to set in. What we could only deduce to be a neighborhood was a giant pile of debris segmented by the now clear streets. When we reached Duquesne, a few miles east of Main Street Joplin, we found a different scenario. Instead of giant piles of debris, we found empty lots with remaining foundations, a few obvious signs of landscaping, and occasionally an intact house. As we learned later, the crews cleared this area before we arrived.

Wildwood Baptist happens to reside at the apparent end of the tornado's path. The church housed volunteers and Joplin area residents until July 1st, which forced us to relocate to the Abundant Life mid way through our stay. Both churches were more than hospitable; providing not only a place to sleep, but also three meals a day, and endless hydration. A big thanks to those churches, as well as any other church or organization that housed volunteers and displaced residents.

During our visit, we elected to make ourselves useful by helping Americorps crews remove debris from select properties. Basically, each property must be cleared, whether the homeowner can manage the task or not. If not, crews of volunteers are charged with the task of sorting and moving the debris to the sidewalk, where it can be loaded into dump trucks and hauled off. The more volunteers can manage, the less the affected cities have to pay contractors to do it.

Clearing this debris is hard and time consuming work. When we were on our way to Joplin, I wondered what would be left to do 40+ days after the storm. After participating in the clearing process, I can now understand why there is still so much to clean up. Imagine all the stuff the common household is comprised of; appliances, furniture, decorations, dinnerware, wood, plaster, shingles, cement, insulation, etc. Now imagine a neighborhood of houses full of these things, about a half to a full mile wide and a few miles long. There is a lot to clean up after the disintegration and dispersal of these houses under the wrath of a tornado. I am now left wondering how much more labor will be needed to replace all the houses and the stuff that goes into them.

This experience was valuable on so many levels for we three travelers. Even three days after our departure from Joplin, we're still reflecting and unwinding. It would be a shame to limit this experience to a simple summary of lessons learned, experiences gained. There is just so much to be said about the value of community in times of devastation; and still much to contemplate as we reel into the eastern part of the country with these new perspectives in our heads.

After hearing a few stories from a few Joplin residents, I'd like to end with a scenario: You suddenly learn that the tornado warning is real, and you have 17 minutes to get to the storm shelter--if you have one. The storm plows through, you and your family survived the storm, but now your house is gone, along with everything in it, including your car. What do you do now? Do you stay or go? Having lived through such a tremendous experience, do you miss all the stuff you lost? Or do you now feel relief in your forced freedom from it all? Do you feel lucky to be alive? Or do you feel misfortune for having such a horrible thing hit your hometown?