brokenness.

For some reason, God's gotta do some big things to get our attention. Why? Because otherwise we go on living this 'good life' and ignore him if we aren't in need of assistance. I mean, it's true. I don't search for him, run to him, or even attempt to seek him if everything seems all lollipops and rainbows.

Perspective.

I went to Joplin today with my church family. The pictures, the headlines, the stories....none of this does it justice until you see it in person...for yourself. But, I think more than the actual devastation, the flatness of every building, the debris, was the impact of a few certain people.

Pauline. In the midst of sorting through clothes, I came into contact with an older lady looking for some specific items. I quickly asked her what I could help her find. This sparked conversation about the loss of her entire house. The fact that she heard the sirens going off but it was quite 'little boy cries wolf'. The fact that the sound was coming from a different direction this time than the usual train on the other side of the house. The fact that she and her husband got into the bathroom, she in the tub, and that they didn't have time to get the dog. Within seconds, they were soaked, walls were torn down, but the drywall above their heads just somehow managed to stay in tact. Pauline brought tears to my eyes, and I told her I was coming around the table to hug her. We held each other in tears. She was so grateful for our service and knew the Lord kept her, her husband, and the dog safe. Upon leaving, I sought to give her one last hug. Deep in my heart, I didn't want to see her go. I remember that I kept saying over and over again, "Be safe" as I typically say to people leaving my presence. But, this time, it was in a whole new realm. Be safe because I knew what she'd been through and it hurt (sigh) my heart.

Three outfits. I decided to approach another lady who I thought could use some help since we had sorted through much of the female clothing. It was more difficult to find what this lady was looking for. But, indeed some of it was found. After a few more suggestions, she said she was 'good' because she now had three outfits. Three. She knew she was covered until Monday. Then what? I tried to imagine (key word: tried) what it would feel like losing ALL of my stuff, all of my clothing. I then tried to imagine walking into a shelter such as this and attempting to throw outfits together. I think part of me would obviously want to 'look good' but, at that point, would be thankful for whatever. What a sense of vulnerability.

"It's okay." One of the last lady's I encountered was somewhat difficult to understand. I kept holding up pieces of clothing to see if they'd work for her. They either did or they didn't. After making our way through the clothes, I pointed out to her that there were baby diapers, toilet paper, soap, etc. along the other side of the room. I highly encouraged her to go fill up her bag. She repeatedly said, "It's okay" with such humbleness. I was so enthralled but wouldn't let her win. I told her they were there for her, and she smiled one big smile and headed over. I saw her when she was about to walk out and she just said, "Thank you, thank you." She reached her arms out and squeezed me. Humbleness. Thankfulness.

Brokenness is evident. Evident in the loss of shelter, scattered memories, and death.

Yet, God is good. He is evident with the supply of water, the number of neon green shirt volunteers, and those raiding the streets with hard hats. Yes, it's ugly. But, more than that, it's beautiful because this brokenness is, and I can guarantee it, enabling people to sprint to him, to turn to no one else, and most of all, to see that he is indeed faithful in the midst.