Joplin : On Seeing, Believing and Pick Up Sticks

Yesterday, I saw Barack Obama’s motorcade cruise down Airport Drive in Joplin. It was Monday. He was en route to speak at our city’s high school graduation, a graduation big enough to reserve the gymnasium at our local state college. Last year on the same date, they reserved the same gym and then dispersed for various parties around the city. That was mid-afternoon. By six o’clock, a twister tore my town in two.

Since the Joplin Tornado May 22nd last year, everyone from Time to the Times, from ASPCA to FEMA, from the Tea Party to Occupy Wall Street has said something about the events surrounding the tornado. Most of the people talking about the events got here a few days too late. The way my professor taught it, investigative journalism is supposed to… y’know… investigate what really happened. Though I’m no journalist, I’d like to tell you the truth about how our city set the pace for fast recovery.

By “fast recovery” I mean our people hopped to work long before any aid agency set up shop in Jasper County. Those of us able to fog a mirror and flex a bicep tossed rubble out of the way, dug out the trapped, the injured and the deceased.

Groups of like-minded or like-skilled individuals roamed the city with the tools of their various trades. I saw a chainsaw army (chainsarmy?), a group of techs and student nurses, groups of men on ATVs and farmers wielding what appeared to be machines of war but turned out to be these old things called “tractors.” Rain didn’t stop us. Neither did the demonic lightning that burned down several houses and killed a poor police officer that was directing traffic. In some places, the public workers were still in shock and refused to let us through. In other places, they knew our working relationship with the city, how every year we band together to serve Joplin, clean up her streets, visit her nursing homes, paint her dilapidated houses and otherwise tend to her wounds. Who’s the ‘we’ ?

People of faith.

Before you hit ctrl-W and close out the window, let me explain. I know some who read this blog became anarchists because some religious wingnut blasted a bullhorn in your face. Others are atheists because of the harsh words and violent discipline of a hard father. Still others abhor the systemic evil of those who enable perverted religious leaders. Some hate the church, others tolerate her for extended family but privately think the concept thing a social construct. I could go on and on, but the point is nearly everyone reading this has been wounded by some religious person, often by the church. Me too. I understand, I sympathize and I’m sorry for whoever hurt you. Truly sorry. You’ve no idea how sorry I am…
As the Bard said, therein lies the rub: I’d be lying if I said the majority of the help came from somewhere else. I’d be lying if I said, “we couldn’t have done it without [insert name of governmental or humanitarian organization].” We could have managed. Don’t get me wrong, I think all of the humanitarian non-profits lent guidance, experience and administration to our rag-tag team of volunteers. We’re all grateful for that, our gratitude continues even into this next year. But I think, for once, we all see one city that could have managed.

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This doesn’t surprise me. I have friends from Joplin serving in Haiti before, during and still long after the earthquake. I have other friends serving in Japan before, during and still long after the tsunami. Others served in New York before, during and still long after 9/11. Still others served in Afghanistan before, during and still long after the death of Bin Laden. The list goes on. None of these people are military personnel. None of them work for humanitarian organizations. They are simple people of faith who pick up their neighbor’s sticks when the wind blows them down. Why? Because they believe greater things are still to be done in whatever city they find themselves in.
I once rode south along with the white vans, first to New Orleans after Katrina and then to Galvaston. Countless stories of these disaster road trips exist, but in some ways Joplin works like a hub for such activity. Joplin remains one of the great secrets of the Middle West neither for its size nor attractions but for its network and heart. You could explain the flurry of activity last May by saying the tornado smashed a beehive where disaster volunteers live or send kids to school.

I need to define “church” and “people of faith.” Days after the tornado, some publication posted a list of church services. We joke about how some intersections in Joplin host worship centers on three out of four corners. Yes, that’s excessive, but it illustrates the displacement when the tornado wiped out a dozen church buildings. A Baptist church met with the Catholics. A Presbyterian church met with the Pentecostals. A Methodist church met in Ozark Christian College’s chapel. The list went on ad nauseam of people united over simple faith and a common antagonist. In Joplin, lines and schisms faded. In Joplin, people banded together on an idea their ancestors united around long ago: resurrection. They continue to work together, continue to unite themselves under a common banner of faith.
And I do mean unity, not uniformity. I have friends of faith here who started the Occupy Joplin group and friends who hope to vote for Ron Paul in the next election. Some voted for Obama, others cheered on Bush during the last administration. Still others, like me, refuse to register to vote. Some worship with liturgy, some with a capella singing, some with rock, hipster folk, bluegrass and (occasionally) jazz. Carthage (a city next to Joplin) enjoys the presence of thousands of Vietnamese Anglicans every year for some pilgrimage. Why Carthage? Your guess is as good as mine, but those Vietnamese Anglicans pitched in too.

One man called Joplin “a miracle of the human spirit,” but that’s not the way my parents told the tale at bedtime. Whether from the Fae or Narnia or Middle Earth, they always reminded me that miracles come not from humans, but from somewhere or someone else. The miracle that happened in Joplin despite catastrophe was nothing short of divine.

That’s what I saw. The man who denies what he sees with his own eyes has gone insane. Truth is, Joplin showed the world that in some places, people of the faith are neither as divided nor as apathetic as everyone once thought. Ghandi said he’d become a Christian if it weren’t for all the Christians. Nietzsche said he’d believe in the redeemer if his followers lived redeemed lives.

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I wish they both could have seen what I saw last year.


 

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  1. mberry1287

    Lance, great words and reflection. You definitely captured the essence of who Joplin is. Thanks for writing

    1. lanceschaubert

      Love you man. Thanks for reading. Feel free to share!

  2. Doberman

    Really respect when people have unity rather than uniformity. Resilience….where does it come from. 😉 I think faith is invaluable.

    1. lanceschaubert

      Thanks so much, sis. Means the world to have your support on this one. Unity’s worth gold, especially here.

  3. brennanofcon

    I want to write more but all that is in my mind is thank you and well done.

    1. lanceschaubert

      Always feel free to write more. The conversation’s the best part for me…

  4. brennanofcon

    Two simple thoughts: Thank you & Well done

    1. lanceschaubert

      You’re welcome and thank you as well, brenna. Thanks for stopping by.

  5. davidfish

    Well stated, and worth stating. One minor correction, the Vietnamese who go to Carthage are Roman Catholics, not Anglicans. Back in the day before OCC had a gym, we played our home basketball games there in Carthage: http://bit.ly/MHwycT.

    1. lanceschaubert

      Really? I need to check my sources. Thanks, Dave. Though I’d revise, it would render your comment meaningless, so I’ll leave the error in the post and concede to your fact checking. Think of this like a letter to the editor section where I say, “Yup, I think I was wrong about that.”

  6. lanceschaubert

    Thanks to everyone who talked to me in person–I recognize not everyone comments on here, but thanks for the compliments and encouragement all the same. Still rooting for this city as I always have, before, during and long after the tornado.

  7. Amanda Wurdeman

    Lance-
    Somehow came across this! It was so wonderfully written (of course). Needs to be published for lots of people to share in. Thank you.

    1. lanceschaubert

      Thanks, Amanda. I’m so glad you did. We’re actually working on a photo book…

  8. Tuxedo Sophisticated Cat

    Very well said. Thank you.

    1. lanceschaubert

      Well thanks, Tuxedo.

  9. lanceschaubert

    Just had my first meeting with Mark Neunschwander and Keaton Taylor about our upcoming photobook. REALLY excited about what we have to offer our city. More to come…

  10. Bob

    I think the credit for the massive effort goes to the humans not to the gods.

    1. lanceschaubert

      Bob,

      Thanks so much for stopping by. Three questions:

      1. What reasons would you give as someone who spent time in Joplin during the tornado?

      2. Did you get the impression that I meant more than one god? Or that I meant something like a local deity?

      3. Your linked name says you won the outstanding service award from VIU? Congrats! What’s it like there?

      Thanks again!

      1. Bob

        1. I don’t understand the question.
        2. I like what you say about the humans who worked together in unity. I have nothing to say about spirits.
        3. VIU = Vancouver Island University; it’s great here on the Island. Thanks for the “Congrats”:!

        1. lanceschaubert

          Thanks for the response Bob.

          The first question had assumed another question. I’m assuming you had some experience to draw from, that you spent some time in Joplin and witnessed something different than I did. If so, I was curious as to what that experience was? What things did you witness in Joplin that spoke otherwise?

          Well in spite of differing opinions, I’m glad you were encouraged by the sort of unity brought on by humans. Perhaps we could agree that an epic, common antagonist provokes solid protagonism among fellows?

          I’ve only seen pictures of Vancouver and so envy your landscape. You’re more than welcome and thanks again for stopping by!

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    […] I have and give to the poor, to walk the second mile, to love my enemies and neighbors, to put a tornado-devastated city back together piece-by-piece is “unprofitable,” then I don’t know if I ever want to make a profit again. That in mind, I […]

  13. Lancelot Schaubert

    The further I get from this tragedy, the more I stand by what I said here and the more I think how wild it was that we responded as we did.

    However, I will say there’s an excellent book entitled A PARADISE BUILT IN HELL that describes, more or less, the good that happens often in the wake of tragedy. I’d probably point to that.

Quick note from Lance about this post: when you choose to comment (or share this post with your friends) you help other readers just like you.

How?

Well, see, your comments & sharing whisper a few things to those who come after you:

The first is that this site is a safe place to speak up & stay curious. That it's civil. That discussion is encouraged. That there's no such thing as a stupid question (being a student of Socrates, I really and truly believe this). That talking to one another and growing together is more important than anything we could possibly publish. That the point is growing in virtue and growing together and growing wise. That discovery is invention, deference is originality, that we all can rise together. The only folks I'm going to take comments down from are obvious jerks who argue in bad faith, don't stay curious, or actively make personal attacks. And, frankly, I'd rather we talk here than on some social media farm — I will never show ads and the only thing I'm selling anywhere on the site or my mailing list is just the stuff I make.

You're also helping folks realize that anything you & they build together is far more important than anything you come to me to read. I take the things I write about seriously, but I don't take myself seriously: I play the fool, I hate cults of personality, and I also don't really like being the center of attention (believe it or not). I would much rather folks connect because of an introduction I've made or because they commented with one another back and forth and then build something beautiful together. My favorite contributions have been lifelong business and love partnerships from two people who have forgotten I introduced them. Some of my closest friends NOW I literally met on another blog's comment section fifteen years ago. I would love for that to happen here — let two of you meet and let me fade into the background.

Last, you help me revise. I'm wrong. Often. I'm not embarrassed to admit it or worried about being cancelled or publicly shamed. I make a fool out of myself (that's sort of the point). So as I get feedback, I can say, "I was wrong about that" and set a model for curious, consistent learning, and growing in wisdom. I'm blind to what I don't know and as grows the island of my knowledge so grows the shoreline of my ignorance. It's the recovery of innocence on the far end of experience: a child is in a permanent state of wonder. So are the wise: they aren't afraid of saying, "I don't know. That's new: please teach me." That's my goal, comments help. And I read all reviews: my skin's tough, but that's not license to be needlessly cruel. We teach one another our habits and there's a way to civilly demolish an idea without demolishing another person: just because I personally can take the world's meanest 1-star review doesn't mean we should teach one another how to be crueler on the internet.

For three magical reasons — your brave curiosity, your community, & my ignorance:

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