Ocean Springs Trip

Today, we “worked the line.” The “line” is the distribution line, where we hand out boxes of food that will feed a family of four for three days, hygiene products (shampoo, soap, etc.), feminine products, baby products, cleaning products, disposable tableware, sheets/blankets, and anything else that we have that people might want. We even gave out baby car seats and toys for children.

It’s getting cold, and they need sheets and blankets. Especially queen size ones, because they fit the FEMA trailers’ beds.

Anyway, I served as the “Caller,” and I was responsible for taking the checklists out from under the windshield wipers to call out what items the people needed.

Although we were getting physical items to meet physical needs, it was also an excuse to engage people in “pastoral conversation” to minister to them spiritually. Ministry is the number one priority around here, and that means both spiritual and physical ministry.

Some of the contacts were a mixed bag. One woman came through with a van that had separate sheets over each of the seats in her van; at least 6 or 7 sheets in all. She said she needed sheets for her bed. (With tongue in cheek, I wondered if she had another vehicle). At any rate, she shared that since Katrina, she was deathly afraid of any storms that came through the area since the storm. She was clearly troubled. She had lost her best friend to the storm in Biloxi. We gave her the sheets.

Other contacts were opportunities for further ministry. One woman, with her children and a handkerchief on her head, could barely keep her eyes open. I talked to her for a minute, and found out that she was so tired because they were mucking out their house as a family. I referred her to the case workers, and told her that we could help. That way, she could focus her energy on rebuilding.

There were nice cars, “beater cars,” and everything in between. The common thread – they all had lost everything and had no where else to turn.

One woman through the line shared the fact that her good friend’s brother had committed suicide two weeks ago. We figured out that I had an appointment to talk with her friend on Monday. We talked for awhile, and when she accompanied her friend to the church on Monday, we had already established a relationship for ministry to happen. In the line, we make connections and establish relationships.

One woman and her mother were looking for items to take care of her three-month-old baby. When she told me that, I stopped and calculated for a moment, doing the math. “Was she born before the storm,” I asked. “Yes, she was two weeks old and we floated her on an air mattress in our house when the flood came.”

I had to process that one for a minute. I know we are supposed to be pastoral and focused and everything, but I had to ponder that one before I could respond.

“Don’t doctors tell you not to have kids that age around other people, because of the risk of getting sick?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Isn’t that kind of dirty, floating a two-week old child on an air mattress in flood waters?”

“Yes,” she said again. “We went into the attic when it got higher.” She then told me the whole story about the flood waters and her house and her baby.

Recovering my pastoral bearing, I told her that her story sounded quite like the story of Moses, when his mother put him in the pitch basket and floated him to safety. She thought for a minute, and said, “Yes, I like that. I hadn’t thought of that! Thanks!”

Around here, you don’t have to be a pastor to be in ministry. Everyone provides pastoral care, whether they are lay or clergy.

One person who came here two months ago to volunteer for a week and couldn’t leave (and there are several people like that here) shared a story of how he ministered to someone. This person had come through the distribution line, and he struck up a conversation with him. The man shared that he was at his breaking point. The worker realized that this was probably the real reason that the man came for help, and that he probably needed someone to talk with. So, the worker engaged the man in conversation. After some time of excellent ministry, the man seemed much less agitated, and said to the worker, “Well, I was at my breaking point, and you have helped move that breaking point a little bit farther down the road. Thank you.”

It’s just stuff. On the distribution line, however, it becomes an opportunity for God’s grace to enter in.