Storyboards . . .

Today marks 8 months since the tornado ripped through Tuscaloosa, Alabama. I have lived in the Tuscaloosa area for a little over 9 years. When I moved here, I did not intend to stay. But as many things go, my plans changed and flexed and Tuscaloosa/Northport is now my home. So in the aftermath of April 27th, I was stunned to see the damage caused to my home city. 

Since April 27, 2011, much of my time has been consumed by Tornado Recovery work. It began immediately after the storm.  I had watched a tornado move through downtown Cullman about an hour or so before the Tornado hit Tuscaloosa. I watched the television as the storm approached. Right before I lost my TV signal, I saw enough to know to send a text message to the student residents at Canterbury Chapel that the storm was coming toward them. I then switched to listening to the radio, and listened as the newscasters described the Tornado moving through town and that it looked like it might have hit DCH Hospital and the University of Alabama. Though James Spann had not yet announced that I could leave my place of safety, I grabbed a flashlight and headed into town. I had no idea what I would find.

As I crossed the bridge into Tuscaloosa, I noticed that the street lights were out. I could see no damage and I breathed a sigh of relief when I could see that DCH Hospital was still standing. I turned off the main road to head to Canterbury Chapel. I was relieved once again to see that the Chapel was intact and to find the student residents there and safe. No one had any idea of the extent of the damage.

Two church members were at the Chapel, a gentleman named Thad, his daughter, and their dachshund. They had lived behind Hobby Lobby and their house was destroyed. They had walked/gotten a ride to the Chapel. Thad had blood on his shirt and a bandage on his arm. I sent someone to get a First Aid kit and a clean shirt. Thad insisted that he was alright, but I was doubtful because it was a lot of blood. When I pulled off the bandage, I knew immediately that Thad needed to go to the hospital. One of Canterbury's students was a nursing student. She cleaned up Thad's arm and put a new bandage on, and myself, Thad, and Holly, a law student, loaded up to go to the hospital.

When we got to DCH Hospital, they were in emergency mode. Thad was triaged and we were taken somewhere to wait. As we walked through the halls, there were people everywhere. We walked past someone who was on a gurney and being treated. That person's hand had nearly been severed. I kept my head down, and just kept walking. Once we were in the back, I watched as more and more folks came in. I talked to a guy that described his apartment complex in Alberta City being destroyed and having to pull someone out of the rubble. Thad was stitched up by a heart doctor. Doctors and nurses from all over Tuscaloosa County had headed to the hospital. And we managed to make it out of DCH in about 2 hours. The only information they took from Thad was his name, they didn't ask for any billing information. 

When it was time to leave, the nurse told me to go get my car and bring it to the back. She said that there was a crowd out front, and they didn't want us to walk through that. The nurse took me to a side door to get out. What I saw when I walked outside was a completely different world than had been there before. There were people everywhere. Folks with their kids, their dogs, with bags and suit cases. The National Guard was there, and I had to wait as a helicopter took off. When I got to my car, I was able to look down University Boulevard towards Alberta City. I could see a line of folks walking from Alberta City towards the hospital. I got into my car and picked Thad and Holly up and went back to to Canterbury. 

When I returned to the Chapel, there were a few more folks there. Marc, the Chaplain had arrived, as well as some more students. The power was still out. And the town was eerily dark. We sat around for a while. We ate what food was there, and shared some drinks. Almost everyone had been accounted for, though there were a few folks we couldn't get on the phone. We decided that it would be best to wait until the morning to go looking for them. A student named Wes came to me and said that he was going to try to go home. I asked him where he lived, and he described his apartment complex in Alberta City. I realized that this was likely the same Apartment complex that the young man at the hospital had described being destroyed. I told Wes that I didn't think he could go home tonight. 

I went home. I was drained. I had no idea what the morning light would reveal. 

And so began my Tornado Recovery work. The next morning I drove and walked to find the unaccounted for parishioners, all of whom were safe. For the next week, I worked out of Canterbury Chapel, coordinating sending supplies to areas where they were need. I attended meetings with clergy of the three churches, and somehow became the diocesan point person on the ground in Tuscaloosa. There were phone conferences, phone calls, and meetings. 

This eventually led to the creation of the Episcopal Tornado Recovery Cooperative. Before I knew it we were hosting our first out of town volunteer team. We were receiving donations, and we began figuring out ways that we could help the tornado affected areas. Then there were meetings with the Long Term Recovery Coalition of West Alabama, and being appointed as a Co-Chair of the Case Management Committee. I never knew one person could go to so many meetings. 

All of these meetings began to lead to real results. Real people helped. Real work done. And finally on December 1st, all these meetings resulted in the groundbreaking on a Habitat home. 

We began our first work day not at ground level, but having to dig below ground level. We dug in the dirt so that a foundation could be laid. On December 17th our starting worksite looked like this:

The foundation had been laid, and it was time to start building up. First one wall went up and then another. 

The way we built these walls was by using "storyboards." These were literally boards that were laid out along the outside of the building that were labeled with what was supposed to be there. These storyboards were in one sense the story of the house. They told the story of how each wall was built. 

But this wasn't the whole story. The rest of the story of this house began on April 27th when the homeowners survived the storm, though their home was destroyed. The story of these house includes all those meetings, and all the work of Habitat and of volunteers to get this house built. The story includes Amy, one of the homeowners, driving nails to build the walls that will soon be her living room. Following all these stories, this was the house at the end of our workday on December 17th:

Eight months after the storm, it is this picture of hope, this story of a home that I would rather tell. While that monster tornado in the first picture is certainly part of the story of this house, it is overshadowed by the story of hope that these walls and rafters tell. 

It ain't over til it's over . . .

Photo by Kelley Hudlow 12/24/2011

At nearly 9 p.m. on Christmas Day, many folks (including me) are sighing with relief that Christmas has arrived and is soon to be in the past. I have followed the posts on Facebook as friends with children have documented the joy and excitement of little hands tearing into wrapping paper, and others have shared the feasts that have been prepared, presented, and partaken. A lot of work goes into those few hours of joy. From the day after Thanksgiving until Christmas Eve, most folks run the rat race of the "Holiday Shopping Season." There are preparations for relatives and friends. Activities at work, school, and church. There is a lot to do in the Advent Season, and the time of quiet preparation is lost.

So at the end of it, most folks are ready for a break. A rest before the festivities of New Year's Eve celebrations begin leaving Christmas behind. A rest before life returns to "normal."

But for those of a liturgical persuasion, whose calendar is not just filled with government holidays, but with the Seasons of the Church Year, there is still something special. While the rest of the world rests from a season of spending and craziness, liturgical folks are just beginning the celebration. For Christmas Day is the first day, and there are eleven more to go.

That means eleven days of still singing Christmas carols, if you are so inclined. Eleven days of enjoying your Christmas tree, without worrying if you have enough presents under it. Eleven more days to celebrate the joyful outlandishness of Christmas. That God came to live among his in the form of a baby born to a teenage girl while on the road. And that all our hope for salvation is found in this fragile little child.

So it ain't over until it's over.

In traditions gone by, the end of Christmas was marked by a Twelfth Night celebration on January 5th. A celebration filed with drink and cheer, and a "king cake." The person that got the bean or trinket in the cake was the King of the festivities. The Twelfth Night marked not only the end of Christmas, but also the end of a winter festival that began on All Hallow's Eve, where the Lord of Misrule was in charge. This time was a celebration of the world being turned upside down. A fitting celebration for the birth of Jesus.

The birth of Jesus has turned the world upside down. It is the beginning of new creation. It is the reversal of order that Mary sang about In Luke 1:46-55:

‘My soul magnifies the Lord, 
   and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour, 
for he has looked with favour on the lowliness of his servant.
   Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; 
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
   and holy is his name. 
His mercy is for those who fear him
   from generation to generation. 
He has shown strength with his arm;
   he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. 
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
   and lifted up the lowly; 
he has filled the hungry with good things,
   and sent the rich away empty. 
He has helped his servant Israel,
   in remembrance of his mercy, 
according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
   to Abraham and to his descendants for ever.’


So rest tonight, but don't move so quickly through Christmas. Celebrate all the way through. The celebration of Christmas marks God's love breaking into the world.


Merry First Day of Christmas!

The peculiar role of Deacons

So one of the things that Deacons are called on to do is serve in diocesan services, such as ordinations. It usually takes a few of deacons to do this. A Deacon to read the Gospel and set the Table. And a Deacon for each Bishop. Deacons assigned to tend to the Bishops are called "Bishop's Chaplains." And it looks something like this:

That's me to the left of the very tall bishop

Now if you look carefully, you can observe the main function of the Deacon as "Bishop's Chaplain," namely holding things. I am holding Bishop Sloan's mitre, while my partner in crime Deacon Judy Quick is holding Bishop Parsley's mitre and crozier. 

So now for some Episcopal lingo. 

A mitre in simplest terms is a hat. It is signifies that the wearer is a Bishop, and is often said to represent the tongues of fire from Pentecost.

A crozier looks like a shepherd's crook, and that is the general idea. It is also something that is particular to a Bishop. A Bishop is the shepherd to his assigned flock, usually a Diocese. 

The mitre and the crozier are signs of a Bishop's authority. For example, in the above picture you may notice that there is only one crozier involved. That is because currently Bishop Parsley is the diocesan bishop, meaning he is the Bishop in Charge. Bishop Sloan is currently the Suffragan Bishop as well as the Diocesan Bishop Elect. Bishop Sloan is a Bishop, and therefore he has a mitre, but he is not the top Bishop. 

Just about everything that Episcopalians do has meaning. So what is the meaning of this hat holding? Well the mitre and crozier are symbols of authority. Deacons have a special relationship to Bishops, and serve directly under the Bishop. So when it comes to holding onto the symbols of authority of Bishops, Deacons are the liturgically obvious choice.

Now before you dismiss service as chaplain as simply being a matter of holding stuff, you have to also understand that there is a lot of putting miters on and taking them off. . .

So the Bishop's Chaplain has to be on the ready to pass off and take on the mitre and crozier. There is also a lot of standing. 

Now on this particular occasion I was happy to serve as the Bishop's Chaplain. It got me front row seats for the ordination of priests, including The Rev. Katie Nakamura-Rengers, who I serve with at St. Michael's. So in exchange for some standing, holding, and waiting, I got a front row to this:

Which was a pretty neat thing to take part in. 

Diggin' in the Dirt

Today was the first Habitat build day for the Episcopal Tornado Recovery Cooperative. It was a clear day with plenty of sunshine, which was important since it was also very chilly. We began the day with getting our objectives: (1) dig and square out trenches and (2) put in steel for footings. As I listened to Brandon, our fearless Habitat Leader, explain the work we were about to do I was certainly skeptical that we would even get the trenches done. And I wasn't the only one that was a little doubtful. But in spite of our uncertainty, we bravely hopped in the trenches and started the work. We worked hard. At one point I put down my shovel, and climbed out to take a break. I was certain that it must be 10 a.m., but I was very surprised to look at my watch and see that only an hour had gone by.

I jumped back in the trench. There were the sounds of shovels and a pick ax. Some taking, but mainly just digging. A back hoe was brought in to help in the digging. By the time that Elizabeth from Canterbury showed up with lunch at 11:30 we had gone from digging to laying the first layer of steel for the footings. I was amazed to see the progress that was made. In a matter of minutes work had shifted from quiet digging, to voices calling out for rebar with 2 foot or 4 foot or 8 foot bends. A team was tasked with hearing the requests, measuring the steel, and with a little brute force, bending the steel.

Elizabeth brought sandwiches and brownies. And this was probably the best sandwiches I have had in a while. Once our stomachs were full, back in we went. Another layer of steel. Hammering in grading stakes. And constructing the special footings for the "Safe Room." Habitat has committed to putting a safe room in each house they build. The family that we are building this house for are tornado survivors. Their home, which was about a block away from the Habitat site, was completely destroyed on April 27. Mom and 2 of the kids were picked up and carried to Alberta Elementary School. One child was found in the debris at the home. It was 24 hours before all the kids were accounted for and the family was reunited.

The family was on site doing their sweat equity work. The helped with laying the steel, and also began building a storage shed for their new home. It was a wonderful day.

I used to joke that Episcopalians don't build houses, they write checks. We certainly were able to write the check for this home, and today we proved that we could also build a house.

We will be back next week, and with any luck we will be raising walls.

I'm tired. I'm sore. Muscles hurt that I didn't know that I had. But it was a great day.

Work Site at Start of Day

Work Site at Close of Day

This will become the Safe Room

Our Work

Our Work