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FeaturesJuly 24, 2011

Editor's note: The following is a personal essay submitted to the Southeast Missourian. It details one woman's experience volunteering in Joplin, Mo., July 2. A tornado destroyed much of the town on May 22 and killed more than 130 people, making it one of the deadliest tornadoes in U.S. history. Since then, hundreds of volunteers have traveled to the town to help in the rebuilding -- and the healing -- process. Here is one of those stories....

A destroyed business is seen in Joplin, Mo. (Photo courtesy Susan Matthews)
A destroyed business is seen in Joplin, Mo. (Photo courtesy Susan Matthews)

Editor's note: The following is a personal essay submitted to the Southeast Missourian. It details one woman's experience volunteering in Joplin, Mo., July 2. A tornado destroyed much of the town on May 22 and killed more than 130 people, making it one of the deadliest tornadoes in U.S. history. Since then, hundreds of volunteers have traveled to the town to help in the rebuilding -- and the healing -- process. Here is one of those stories.

"Gloves, face mask, sunscreen, closed-toe shoes. Nobody gets on the bus without them."

These were the instructions my daughter and I heard as we boarded a school bus that would take us from the campus of Missouri State Southern University to a work site in the tornado-ravaged areas of Joplin, Mo. After checking in at the registration headquarters and loading our cooler with water and snacks, we were ready to lend a hand along with volunteers from Texas, Illinois, Oklahoma and Missouri.

As we drove closer to the southern part of town, which suffered the worst damage, our bus driver pointed out landmarks and businesses along our route that no longer existed or were unrecognizable. We passed block after block of homes and businesses that now were piles of twisted metal, lumber, brick and insulation.

The sobering scene went on for blocks, as our driver explained that the tornado touched down for a stretch of about six miles. He described a mother and daughter swept away as they exited a pharmacy, pointed to St. Mary's Catholic Church that was now just a shell with the cross still above it, and showed us St. John's Hospital standing empty with large gaping holes. We were silenced by the extent of the devastation.

A pile of personal effects sits on the ground in Joplin. Volunteers have been separating junk from salvaged items at homes destroyed by the tornado in May.
A pile of personal effects sits on the ground in Joplin. Volunteers have been separating junk from salvaged items at homes destroyed by the tornado in May.

However, as severe as the ravaged landscape looked to us, our driver was quick to point out signs of progress. Previously impassable streets were now clear, streets labeled with spray paint and traffic lights replaced. Construction could be seen on a damaged Walgreens, and the store was open for business in a temporary trailer nearby.

Here and there foundations of destroyed homes and businesses had been cleared, with piles of rubble and debris waiting to be trucked away. Bulldozers and large dump trucks lumbered through the area, scooping up what was left of people's lives and businesses. Sheared trees stood above the rubble, but where the foliage, limbs and bark of trees had been ripped off, bits of bright green foliage sprouted.

We disembarked from the bus to a residential area hit hard by the tornado. A tent on the grounds of a church served as a staging area, and from this site a young man working for AmeriCorps briefed us on the work we would be doing. He instructed us on how the debris should be sorted and piled within 10 feet of the curb. His safety instructions included the importance of wearing the respirator masks at all times to protect our lungs from dust and fiberglass. Given the 100 degree temperatures expected that day, he also stressed the importance of staying hydrated, taking breaks and watching for signs of heat exhaustion.

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We walked several blocks to our work site with coolers, wheelbarrows and shovels in tow. Everyone immediately got to work, raking, shoveling or sorting by hand. The mound of wood, insulation, drywall and ruined household items grew as we carried or pushed in wheelbarrows loads of debris to the street where it would be hauled away. We separated other debris into piles of bricks, electronics and scrap metal.

When a wheelbarrow wasn't available, workers raked the rubble onto makeshift tarps made of curtains or sheets, dragging the load and dumping it curbside. We salvaged personal belongings like photographs or intact household items and reverently placed them in a separate small pile on the home's foundation.

A flag flies at half staff over what remains of Joplin High School after the May tornado that destroyed most of the city. (Photo courtesy Susan Matthews)
A flag flies at half staff over what remains of Joplin High School after the May tornado that destroyed most of the city. (Photo courtesy Susan Matthews)

After just a few hours, the home's foundation was completely cleared. We enjoyed a short break then walked another few blocks to our next job. We started removing debris from two homes that formerly stood side by side. This assignment appeared more challenging, because portions of roof trusses and walls still covered the mess. Some of the cleanup would eventually require the use of saws and heavy equipment. We hauled away bricks in wheeled trash cans and sorted through the remains of another household. We took a short break for lunch, finding relief from the heat in the cool comfort of St. Paul's United Methodist Church fellowship hall. The tornado destroyed the church's sanctuary but amazingly left the rest of the structure unharmed.

As the heat intensified that afternoon, we found ourselves needing more frequent breaks, resting in the shade of a tent and sucking on Popsicles to cool down. By midafternoon we began feeling the effects of the extreme temperatures and reluctantly gathered our coolers and tools and headed back to the bus.

Riding the bus back to the campus, we again passed blocks and blocks of homes in the same sad disarray. I felt somewhat disappointed that I hadn't accomplished a full day of work as I intended, and I felt sad for the city of Joplin and the magnitude of cleanup left to be done. However, I remembered that, as our bus driver pointed out earlier that morning, our presence made a difference in the life of someone.

Without pictures and stories in the media to remind us, Joplin can easily be forgotten. Cleanup and rebuilding will take years, and surely residents' lives will never be the same. I hope to return to Joplin again in the near future and encourage fellow Missourians to remember the people of Joplin and the tragedy they continue to endure. Volunteering opportunities abound and would be a great way to experience missionary work here in our own state.

Joplin shows signs of recovery and glimmers of hope, but they sure could use some helping hands. Information about volunteering can be found at www.211missouri.org.

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