At 9:15pm tonight, I finished Morning Prayer. I had tried to start after waking up at 6:30am this morning. When I opened my eyes, I walked down the hallway to see most of my family seated at the breakfast table. Nearly all of my family (both parents, one grandmother, three sisters, their spouses, and all of their 10 children) are huddled under one roof at my parent’s home in the aftermath of Hurricane Laura. My parents put in a generator just a few months ago.
As I settled into my cup of coffee, I began thinking about the Divine Office. I was looking forward to praying with St. Augustine. “After coffee and breakfast, I’ll pray before we start work.”
Mom and the girls were making breakfast on the gas stove. My brother in law checked the weather on his phone. With just a single bar of service, internet access is spotty. Looking over his cup of coffee, he said, “Rain starts at 8am.”
For the last 24 hours, we were trying to stabilize living arrangements. I spent yesterday on my neighbor’s roof cutting plywood and patching leaks with tar paper. He needed to patch the hole in his garage apartment so he could sleep in it until his house is repaired. We finished just before sundown yesterday.
The news of rain was unwelcome. No-one has yet to see a home or building without roof damage of some kind. All the men jumped up and threw on our work clothes. Some of the clothes reeked from yesterday’s labor. One group headed to my grandmother’s house because no one had seen it yet. They wanted to check it for leaks or damage before the rain. I had not yet been to my own parish because the roads were impassible. One of our neighbors volunteered to drive to St. Pius with me. I knew the office had its roof torn off, and I needed to salvage vital parish records before the rain started.
We headed north. Downed utility poles, trees, power lines, and debris littered the roads. Four lane highways were barely passable with one lane. Everything is damaged or destroyed. Barely a tree remains standing. For 30 miles, the view was the exact same: complete devastation. After traversing a maze of debris, we arrived at the church parking lot. My stomach sank to my toes.
The church hall has a blown out window and holes punched in the metal roof. The church is missing parts of its roof, so the everything is covered in water that fell from the ceiling. The sacristy ceiling is caving in. The education building and office is missing a roof completely.
“Let’s start in the office before it rains.” I looked up and saw the squall line. Going down the walkway to the office, I pushed mangled metal out of our path. There once was an awning over the walkway. Not any more. When we finally go to the door of the office, we pushed it open. Except for a few spots, the dry walled ceiling was still in tact. Ben helped me grab the contents of a few filing cabinets and a few pictures from the wall in my office. We walked around the classrooms. We heard the rain start. I heard a crash from the next room. The ceiling caved in on classroom number 5 once the insulation and drywall got wet. We quickened our pace.
Just as we put down the last load, the bottom fell out. It rained too hard for me to take pictures. As I got into the truck, I listened to the rest of the ceiling crash down in the office.
We moved into the church. My grandmother made most of my vestments for ordination. We stuffed chasubles, albs, and stoles in the back seat of my truck. Monstrance, chalices, and the other sacred vessels, too. (The Blessed Sacrament was already safely removed before the storm).
We headed north to my rectory. I was relieved to find that the damage was relatively minor. Everything was intact, and most of my neighbor’s homes were pretty good, too. I grabbed extra clothes. I hadn’t anticipated being out of my house for a month. That’s how long the estimates are before we have electricity or water.
Before heading home, Ben and I drove around the parish. We greeted the parishioners whom I saw outside. Some had minimal damage, most lost a roof, a few lost it all. I said a few prayers with them and offered words of hope. However, almost everyone was in good spirits.
We got back home at 1:30pm. “I need to do morning prayer,” i thought to myself. “After lunch.” After all, I barely had breakfast. I grabbed two pieces of bread and two old hamburger patties from the last parish bbq a few weeks ago. We emptied refrigerators and freezers and are eating things before they spoil. Just as I took the first bite standing in the kitchen, my phone went off. “Jeff, I need the chainsaw quickly.” I walked out the door as mom was trying to get me to take chips and water with me.
I had to look for the chainsaw. The wind blew the roof off of some of dad’s shop, and the 130+mph winds scattered tools everywhere. I finally spotted the Husqvarna orange and a bottle of 2 cycle fuel. I took a bite of the burger. I added gas and oil to the chainsaw. Then I took another bite. I added choke and pulled a few times on the rope—I hate chainsaws. I took another bite. A few more pulls and it finally cranked. Chainsaw and gas can in one hand and half-eaten burger in another, I walked to my neighbors. Dad and the guys were clearing one driveway. Asa looked up and saw the woman across the street pulling on a tree so she could pull into driveway because it was blocked, too. She put her head into her hands and cried. “Hey guys, we need to go help her.” After they finished her driveway, the woman next door to her pulled up in her car, too. She couldn’t get to her house, either. A tree was in the way. She was a widow. “Since my husband died just a few years ago, I have no one else to help me. I’m just getting home from San Antonio. Someone abandoned a hospice patient before the storm hit. I drove them to a home in west Texas that agreed to take him. I couldn’t leave him to die alone. I came home to this. But I need to go check on my mom in Welsh. She’s blind and living alone.” After some time, we finally cleared everyone’s driveway. She left to go check on her mom.
It was now after 3pm. “I still need to pray morning prayer.”
“Donald still doesn’t have running water. We’ve already fixed two leaks. There’s a third one leaking somewhere.” Then the digging started. I offered to help, but my phone rang. It was the bishop. He needed me to assist communications for the diocese. “The chancery is unusable indefinitely. The roof caved in. I’m at home with my generator and barely any running water. But we must serve our people.”
With just a single bar of LTE, I fired off a half dozen emails, made a dozen phone calls, and seemingly endless texts. Within 20 minutes of checking my backlogged email, I was overwhelmed by the response. The Knights of Columbus had donated $150,000.00. Someone was sending two 18 wheelers loaded with supplies. Parishes across the country were taking second collections for us. The seminary in New Orleans wanted to send seminarian work crews. There were several offers of cleaning crews from parishes nearby dioceses to provide relief. Groups who wanted to come cook hot meals and deliver bottled water. After some time, we have plans. Food and supplies will be handed out in our parish parking lot on Monday. I helped other parishes coordinate similar efforts.
At 7pm, we sat down to a family meal of spaghetti cooked on the gas stove. We invited most of our neighbors. Mom even managed to bake an apple pie, somehow.
After cleaning up dinner and putting all the tools away, I finally sat on the bed at 8:30pm. “Lord, open my lips,” as I finally started Morning Prayer, prayed Daytime Prayer, and concluded with Evening Prayer. At 9:15pm, we gathered in the living room. I celebrated Mass on a small end table, and we asked St. Augustine for help. The Eucharist is our strength. After Mass, we discussed the plans for tomorrow and checked the forecast.
“Rain is coming soon,” Asa said. We unfolded beds on the living room floor and tucked in the kids.
Now it’s time for Night Prayer. With a few hours of sleep, we’ll awaken with a single question, “Lord, who can we help today? But please, no more rain. But if it be Your Will...”
Maybe I’ll pray the Office at the correct times tomorrow. Maybe not. No matter, we simply need You to be with us, Lord. Help us to help each other as you teach us to do.
