Hope in the mist of despair

This week, I will not write so much about my own accomplishments or personal revelations, but rather my observations of the community I live in.

It would be denial to say I have never wondered why there is GreaterWorks in Booneville, out of some 75 YouthWorks sites. I have pondered the reasoning for this, the necessity, the need. Of course Booneville can utilize GreaterWorks interns… but do they need them more than other places?

I am not going to pretend to know the process of choosing GreaterWorks sites, but I am sure there are myriad factors that play into such decision-making.

As my time here draws to a close, I have been blessed to have conversations that help me to see why I am here. I can now begin to comprehend specific instances in which I was the right person to be in this community, and I am very grateful for having been able to help.

But what I’ve seen in the past week has nothing to do with me. As you know, the lives of many of the people in Booneville changed quite drastically a week ago. As a result, I have been able to see what this community, on its own, is capable of doing.

I’ve attended several ministerial fellowship meetings that often appeared (let’s be honest) somewhat pointless to me. The fellowship had an emergency meeting this week that was the kick-start of forming a clearinghouse to aid the families affected by the Cargill fire. The clearinghouse has already been stocked. And what is even better to see is that more than just the ministers of this community are working together, but more the members of the various churches.

I guess all of this has just kind of left me in awe and caught me off-guard because my perception of Booneville has sometimes been that things here are slow to get started and hard to complete.

This all goes to show that in the midst of disaster, there is always good. This community is working together to get through this. (In fact, there is a sign in town that reads something to the extent of: “Sleet, snow, fire or flood. Booneville will triumph!”)

Perhaps for myself, this has been an opportunity for my belief in this community to be strengthened. With less than a month remaining of my GreaterWorks term, I need to trust that the things we have begun as a team, whatever improvements we have made, were not done in vain. I need to trust that everything will not go back to the way it was before we came. For me, this is a way of seeing that this community can, and will, take care of itself long after we have left.

The long day is over

To say the least, this, my first Easter away from family, will be one I do not forget (save possibly if I get old and senile at some point, but I digress).

The weekend kicked off well for me with a thoughtful Good Friday service, followed by a packed Saturday of lunch with my mentor, hiking at Mt. Magazine with Will and Rachel, making dinner for my team and attending Easter Vigil at my church.

It was during the celebration after the conclusion of Easter Vigil that I mentally planned out how Easter Sunday would go for me. Rachel and I would wake up and break our Lenten fast with a breakfast of pancakes, followed by a potluck, Easter egg hunt, and Sunday service at her church. That would then be followed by a lunch with some community friends, which in turn would be followed by dinner at a couple from my church’s home.

The day seemed to be going seamlessly when we were relaxing at our lunch destination and one of our hosts entered, announcing that DPM, a major meat processing plant and significant supplier of jobs in Booneville, was burning to the ground. My immediate reaction was, “You’re kidding,” in the shocked way that one assumes such a random and horrific truth cannot be so. He was not kidding. I later witnessed this myself when I walked outside and observed a big billowing cloud of grey-black smoke rising east of town.

My perfectly planned Easter promptly ended.

The primary concern was the large amounts of ammonia used for refrigeration that, due to the fire, were now leaking into the air.

In the hours immediately following, I called our dinner hosts and debated whether or not it was safe to stay in Booneville. Airing on the side of caution my team and I packed some Easter leftovers and a change of clothes and headed west, on the way calling my family to ensure they would hear the news from me first and not a local news channel.

All that said, I am now typing this reflection from my own bed in our house, back in Booneville. And I am very grateful that I will be sleeping in my own bed tonight.

But the part that makes this topic worthy of my reflection is that the future of Booneville has been on my mind. Though the air is safe, the economic future of this town may very well not be. Employing anywhere from 400-800 (depending on the source) individuals, DPM/Cargill by far provided the most jobs in this community. I can easily name a handful of people I know personally directly affected by this. The plant is gone, useless.

As a volunteer living in this community precisely to help it, especially knowing I will be spending an extra three months here, I find myself grasping for ways I could offset the devastation that will ripple through Booneville as a result of this great loss. But I am coming up empty handed, feeling useless. One of the only things I know that I can do is to continue with what I have been doing and keep my eyes and ears open for other opportunities.

The only other thing I know that I can do is ask for prayers … for a community full of people who woke up this morning celebrating the day that is central to our faith and go to bed tonight wondering how the day’s events will impact their lives.

Feeding the hungry

“For I was hungry and you gave me food …”
“Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you? …”
“Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.”
— Matthew 25: 35, 37, 40

In the most basic sense of the word, I fed the hungry last week.

Allow me to elaborate. On any given day at the Boys and Girls Club, it is not unlikely to have a half dozen or so kids come up and ask me if I have a dollar, a dime, a quarter, or some arbitrary amount of change so that the panhandler can buy a snack or a drink from the pop machine. Typically I say, “I don’t have any money,” which is sometimes followed up by, “Well when do you get paid?” To which I usually smugly reply, “I don’t get paid.” I should add that the club gets free snacks to give to the kids who don’t have enough money to buy their own snack. I usually recommend the kid try to chase down one of these if they are asking me for money.

I should also add that, unfortunately, there appear to be a few kleptomaniacs that frequent the club. Therefore dollars left in backpacks (or free in a cubby) do not last long. This was the case on Thursday when the younger kids came back downstairs from being in the game room and computer room. One young girl, who is always generous buying snacks for other kids or sharing her change, didn’t get to have her snack earlier due to participating in SMART Moves. Not unlike many other dollars, hers had mysteriously disappeared.

She came up to me and explained how she was so hungry. Though I tried my usual answer of, “Have you gotten a free snack?” there were none left. Her usual kindness and generosity moved me to go to my purse, retrieve one dollar bill and one dime. (This happens to be the same little girl who gave me many birthday gifts.) I proceeded to explain that I would buy her the snack of her choice, as a much belated birthday gift to her. She chose a bag of Cheetos that she eagerly grabbed and ate (and, I feel I must mention, she shared with her friend).

I like to think that somehow in this small act of kindness toward a seven-year-old, I have essentially fed Christ.