March 5, 2012

Taking Shelter

Why does it take the worst to bring out the best?

Tragedy in the form of super-cell tornados ripped through southern Indiana, Kentucky, and small towns across the south. TV news and the Internet swarmed with devastating pictures of homes reduced to rubble and stories of whole families swept away and killed.

We were lucky. The tornados passed south of us by about 10 miles. But when the warnings were sounded, we didn’t know which way the wind would blow, so we hunkered into our basement apartment, with flashlights at hand.

About 20 minutes into our storm watch, with the tornados still an hour out, my husband went to check on the laundry. There in the hall was a family of four huddled in the corner.

In my own worry about safety, I hadn’t thought to check on the welfare of strangers. I didn’t think about the people on the second and third floors and where they might seek shelter. I was consumed by Doppler radar and overwrought meteorologists. 

We invited them into our house, and after some pleading, they finally relented. Their girls quickly made friends with our children, and the mother lowered herself onto the couch. Their third child is due in two weeks. Another woman from the second floor came in too, and we talked between weather updates. 

The family is from Ethiopia and had moved to our town in the summer for the father to take a job teaching at a university. The other neighbor, we learned, is an Episcopalian who attends church across the river into Ohio. Two years ago, she was the volunteer nurse for our diocesan summer camp. Who knew? 

We certainly didn’t. For the past two months, we’ve been focused on ourselves, getting acclimated to a new community and enjoying a warm welcome from the church and schools. Meanwhile, we hadn’t taken the risk to knock on the doors of some of our neighbors. 

I think as a church we’re pretty good at helping people after the disaster. My diocese, like others across The Episcopal Church, has raised thousands of dollars to help rebuild the beloved cathedral in Haiti, and already donations and offers for help are flooding in for the tornado victims. 

But I wonder if we’re as good at being there before disaster strikes. Are our doors open always? Are we purposefully and deliberately seeking relationships with new people? Or do we wait until they’re huddled outside our door, desperate and afraid?