Late last night I realized I hadn’t posted in a few weeks. Holy, Moly! It’s been almost two months.
Let’s start with August. I was busy testing for a new belt in Krav Maga. Uh, well, that wasn’t all that complex. I was also doing stuff with/for my mother. And, most of all, I was on vacation.
I had burned out doing several audio books in a row, and that week I took off stretched into a month. I got ready to start another audio book and realized I needed a new computer. (Which, I might add, is still in the box waiting to be turned up with some supercharged memory…)
Then Helene hit. Now, it didn’t hit Naples all that hard, but it sure kicked the snot out of what is known as the Big Bend portion of Florida. I was asked to deploy with the Salvation Army to do Emergency Disaster Services before the storm, and we pre-staged to Lakeland and rode out the storm there before rolling into the impact zone about 6 hours after the storm had passed.
We arrived at 3 PM and were serving hot meals by 5 PM. For the next week we kicked it in gear and served thousands of meals from our mobile units. Sometimes in the parking lot of a shopping center, other times on a dusty dirt road in the middle of the country side. Long days in the sun, walking meals to cars (a lot of handicapped people could not walk up to our unit to get served, so we brought them to their cars) or directing traffic. I used to be good at that, and got my qualifications renewed a couple of days with 6 hours in the sun moving cars so they wouldn’t kill anyone.
Some of you know that I used to deploy to ships and submarines (and other places…) in the Navy. This was the same thing: load all your junk in a backpack and go. I got thrown into the fire early, having to drive a big canteen truck I’d never even started before across the state. Baptism by fire.
Who does this stuff? Retired postmasters (My friend Monique above) and young couples just married and celebrating their two month anniversary in a bunkhouse on wheels. Guys and women who have come up through the Salvation Army recovery programs, and then there are the Florida Baptists. Man, they are a blessing. They cooked the food, we loaded it on our units and served it. It was a fantastic partnership.
Our mobile bunkhouse. About the size of a 9 man compartment on a submarine but with 4 people. Delicious air conditioning (62 degrees at night) and warm comforters.
About a week in, the officers prepared and served a steak dinner for us enlisted types. We were all dragging tail after another hot day in the sun serving others, and it was a top-five moment among steak dinners for me. (Number 1 was after my first Special Operations mission when we left station and had steak and lobster, but that’s another story for never telling.)
This lovely lady had the night shift at the Baptist camp across the street. She always had a pot of coffee on when we got up at 0600. I love her smile, it tells the story of the kind hearted people I served with each day.
This is where we took our meals. We ate the same things we served the public, except for breakfast. I fortunately love grits and eggs. The Florida Baptists treated us very well.
Our first mission to serve: we went to the parking lot at Winn Dixie and served hundreds of meals. The line was still forming when we ran out. We truly served as the hands and feet of Christ for those people. It was an honor to feed and help our new brothers and sisters.
Sometimes, early morning and late at night, you could steal a moment alone to call a loved one (when the cell phones worked) or just sit and sip a cup of coffee and think about the long day behind, or ahead of, you.
I had honestly planned on starting my training to do a half-marathon that week. I dove in the deep end. Most of this distance was walked in increments of 100 feet, back and forth handing out meals.
Now, it wasn’t all meals and traffic direction. Some days I prayed with 40 or more cars, lots of people in some of the cars. The spiritual part of the job is just as important as the calories. I even composed my own prayer, and I’m rather proud of it. Here it is:
Father, we thank you for the food you have provided today, and for allowing us to be your hands and feet delivering it, for we surely are just your servants. I ask that you bless these meals, and the people in this car and those that will provide them with relief from the hardships of this storm. I ask that you strengthen them in the face of the storms sure to come, for they are inevitable in this life. I ask this in the name of your precious Son Jesus.
The dark part of Florida near the peninsula is where we were. They have been hit hard: 3 hurricanes in 13 months. Milton made it 4.
I tried to avoid doing the devastation tourist thing, but I knew some pictures would be vital to telling the story. This town, and the ones near it on the coast, were pretty much scoured from the face of the earth. It was the kind of damage a squadron of B-52 bombers would leave behind.
This guy is David, my canteen partner. He made the sign and stood on the curb for the same hours I spent walking meals to cars and directing traffic. He was a hit and made some viral video hits that will keep him famous forever. He’s a humble servant and a good guy.
The last day of our stay in Perry, Florida. We were sent to a remote site called Shady Grove, on a dirt road near a supply dump, serving meals. Chris, my partner that day, did most of the food work, and I handed meals to passing cars. I was muddy at the end of the day: sweat combined with powdery dust from the cars. It was a good day, but the toughest one in many ways. I didn’t know I would be leaving, but one story touched my heart. An elderly woman came, and after I prayed for her and gave her a meal I asked how she was doing. She pointed over her shoulder and said, “My dog is in the back seat.” All I saw was a blanket. She’d had to put her dog down that afternoon and was going home, alone, to bury her best friend. That darned near broke me. I wanted to go and help her, but we had a line of people waiting for meals and… Well, I think of her often.
It was hard work, and my body isn’t what it was 40 years ago when I did this in the Navy. I came back borderline exhausted and I’ve napped a lot and slept as late as I could most days. Which meant around 0650, because we had a little thing called Hurricane Milton which occupied my time putting up shutters and so on.
Would I do it again? I did today, serving in the kitchen at the Corps office in Naples. Tomorrow I am handing out meals in a trailer park that was hard hit. It truly never stops. But no big deployments for a few months, I have signed contracts for audio books and Santa visits that must be honored.
Our morning meeting. We had our teams ready to go, and we’d pray and then load up the trucks to go serve food to the people who had no power and no water.
I spent a bit of time in the window. The mess on my face is a hair net so that I meet serving standards. That unruly beard must be contained!
But in January... Well, I guess that’s good, because that’s where my heart is: with God and serving people. I love volunteering for the Salvation Army, and after over a year of training I have my certification and identification card as an Emergency Disaster Services member. That’s a big deal, and I’m proud of it!
I still curse way too much, but God seems to be working on me, as I went 10 days with just five slips – and all where nobody could hear them.
Progress.
