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| Hurricanes Hit Home for BVMs in Florida, Alabama |
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Create Nomads Hurricane Charley roared into Port Charlotte and continued across the entire state of Florida as a Category 4 hurricane on Friday, Aug. 13, 2004. We, and thousands of others, lost our homes that day. We also lost electricity and phone service; even cell phones were down. We spent the night in our apartment, but the next day we moved to Colleen's parents' home, bringing with us an elderly neighbor. (Colleen's parents were in Minnesota for the summer.) Except for a large hole in the roof, their home was still intact. Saturday was spent moving our clothing and trying to put a temporary covering over the hole in the roof. Sunday we took our neighbor to her sister's home across the state. On Monday we felt an urgency to be with the people to whom we minister every day. Colleen returned to her parish work in Port Charlotte. Ann returned to her ministry at Catholic Charities in Arcadia, a rural community 30 miles northeast of Port Charlotte. Arcadia was also severely damaged by the storm. Emergency help began to arrive with food, water, clothing and toiletries. Volunteers came from all directions to help in whatever way they could. The outpouring of food, supplies and even money was overwhelming. People from beyond state lines reached out with compassion and love to help a neighbor. It didn't matter what race, color or creed. We were all one big family, helping family. Like the early Christians, we shared all so one would be without. People whose homes were destroyed were placed first in shelters or move d in with family friends. Later, FEMA provided the homeless families with trailers. Two years have passed and many are still in exile, waiting to move to that place they can call “home.” Since Hurricane Charley we have learned a lot about “home.” For us, and for almost everyone we talked with, knowing that family and friends were safe was most important. People could tolerate the loss of material things and the discomfort of displacement if they knew their family was together. “Home is where the heart is.” It's that place where one can be at rest and peace within oneself. We have moved six times since “Charley” and we struggle to find that place within where we can be at “home” again. Today we are much more aware of the many refugees, hostages, migrants, homeless poor, the alienated and those marginalized by our church, as well as our own Sisters at Mt. Carmel. We watch the evening news with new eyes. We listen to people's stories with new ears. Our hearts know a new ache. In his book, Hopeful Imagination: Prophetic Voices in Exile, Walter Brueggemann writes, “Home … is God's kingdom of love and justice and peace and freedom that waits for us. The news is we are invited home….” Today these words mean more to us than ever before. About the authors: Ann DeNicolo, BVM (Ann Thomas) and Colleen McGinnity, BVM (Rose Maureen) continue to minister in Arcadia and Port Charlotte, and to live along the Gulf Coast.
Cause Long-term Evacuation It appeared to be a typical Friday afternoon despite it being Friday the 13th. As I headed home from work I stopped to fill up my car, aware of a possible hurricane. Upon arriving home I had supper, watched the news, and then got out my hurricane supplies: portable black and white 4” TV, a weather radio, a hurricane lantern, numerous flashlights and snacks. I placed blankets on the guest bathroom floor along with my supplies. This room has no windows so it has been designated my “Safe Room.” I went out for my nightly walk and then settled in to watch updates on the storm. I log regular hurricane coordinates on a tracking chart with push pins using a different color for each storm. Around 11 p.m. the storm entered the state at Punta Gorda and traveled north up Interstate 4. As the storm approached Ormond Beach I turned off the regular TV and moved into the bathroom as I have done dozens of times. Suddenly the power went out and there was a terrific BAM. I was sure that my front door had blown in. Carefully, I inched my way towards the door only to find that it was secure. When the eye of the storm passes there is an eerie calming of winds and rain. During this period I ventured out my front door into our open hallways where I met a man from my building. “The roof blew off, the roof blew off,” he yelled and he took me to look at it on the ground and partly hanging off a tree. The next morning I went outside with trash bags and began clearing debris from the lawn as a crew of men were putting a temporary covering over the roof. I worked for a few hours in the sweltering heat, then went in to fix lunch; there was still no power or cell phones. As I sat eating lunch a torrential rain began to fall and a few drips started from my ceiling. I got out two pails and put them under the drips. Then I had to add all my wastebaskets and it eventually began raining inside. I went out into the hall and met three residents, two of whose ceilings collapsed on them. I could tell they were very scared—almost hysterical—and that in turn scared me. We went to the building manager who said there was nothing he could do. I put towels and throw rugs under my buckets and ran from my apartment, sure that my ceiling would collapse. I stopped to visit with friends who had returned to their damaged camper. Then I got in my car and drove to the nearest motels only to find that they were all full. So, I went a little further, and further, and further. I ended up driving 50 miles looking for a place to stay. By now all the motels and hotels had hand-written signs on their front doors saying “Full” or “No Rooms.” Exhausted, I just sat in my car wondering what to do and where to stay. The power was still out and cell phones were still not working. I drove back to Ormond Beach and stayed all night with my camping friends. We had a little cookout overlooking a serene ocean and pondered the situation. My living room furniture was ruined and the mold had started spreading. I drove up the main road, started again checking motels and took the first room available. At this time I was reading Ann Harrington's book, Creating Community: Mary Frances Clarke and Her Companions, and I decided that life on the prairie was much harder than what I was facing. Those early sisters inspired me and helped me adjust to the next five months in the motel. About the author: Joyce Rohlik, BVM is pastoral minister at St. Ann Church, DeBary, Fla.
Bring Influx of Family During my 23 hurricane seasons in Florida, there have been many times I have shored up my home for a hurricane's onslaught and then had to evacuate the premises, but I was always able to come back to the home even though it might not have electricity or phone service. However, I have witnessed the worry and pain of friends, as well as many of the children I have taught who found themselves living in hotels or other temporary arrangements after a hurricane. Hurricane Charley in 2004 made the woes of being homeless even more vivid. My nephew, his wife, and his six children had to share my one bedroom apartment for some time after Charley. The Sullivan's house had recently been sold and their new bigger house was not yet approved for occupancy. This was not a problem until after Charley when the owner needed them out because his house had been completely destroyed. No accommodations could be found in the area because workers were brought in from other states. So the eight Sullivans came to “Aunt Bets” apartment. The two dogs were welcomed by some friends. Days were occupied with dealing with insurance companies, fixing whatever they were able to fix, moving their belongings into storage units, and trying to convince the builders of their new home to finish their house as soon as possible. The crunch of space was felt in the evening with one bath and one twin bed for nine people. When schools reopened the three high schoolers moved in with the family of friends which helped with the room. The younger girls remember the hardest part of living in my apartment for so many weeks was missing their dogs, their brother and sisters, and some of their toys. Sleeping on the floor, having only one shower, being on top of each other while watching TV were faded memories. Hurricane Charley blew through on Aug. 13. The Sullivans moved into their new home on Sept. 28. We find it hard to believe that we were together that long. They ended up in their bigger house and I ended up in my same little apartment which felt much bigger. About the author: Betty Sullivan, BVM (St. Leroy) volunteers in North Ft. Myers, Florida.
Have Long- Lasting Effects They have names...like Ivan, Katrina, Rita...and they have left those names in places like Alabama, which seldom experience hurricanes directly. In 2004, when we arrived to make our new home in Selma, Ala., Ivan met us just four days later. Even though we were 180 miles north of the Gulf of Mexico, the effects of Gulf hurricanes are storms and tornadoes. With Ivan, and later Katrina, Rita, Wilma, the intensity of the hurricanes has extended the eye and storm area further inland than in the past. Today, two years later, many of the blue-tarped roofs have been repaired from Ivan. And, one year later, Katrina evacuees are still living with family or friends in campers as temporary homes, unemployed in an already under-employed economy in south central Alabama. The immediate response of so many in outreach, with finances, food, manpower was tremendous. But with time and the dimming of the faces, flooded homes and streets from the evening news and peoples' minds, the larger difficulties remain. Joblessness and its psychological as well as economic impact on so many families leaves communities helpless. Starting all over again, displacement of families from schools, churches, neighbors drains the energy of those who have little left to begin again or no knowledge of where to start. While Jesus reminds us to “shelter the homeless,” we can only know in a small way the plight of people whose homes, jobs, schools, churches, neighbors were taken from them by a hurricane whose name now means LOSS. SHELTER now means not just a temporary place to stay, but food, clothing, medical care, school, and job opportunities. The outreach of people has been a sharing of the little they have in a very large way. SHELTER has meant helping make repairs and make room in homes for others. SHELTER has meant encouragement and standing with families, helping access FEMA funding, procure temporary housing, begin again—facing all the discouragement side by side—to find work and income for one's family. Ivan, Katrina, Rita, Wilma have taken away homes and changed the lives of thousands. But thousands more have been changed as they SHELTER the homeless.
About the author: Ann Therese Chaput, BVM is Director of Outreach Ministries in Lowndes County, Ala, at Edmundite Missions.
California BVM Involved in Twinning Project with New Orleans Parish Maureen Sheehan, BVM (Wenefride) traveled to New Orleans and Biloxi early this summer as part of a parish delegation from Ss. Simon and Jude Parish, Huntington Beach, Calif., where she is pastoral associate. The parish desired to be twinned with a poor parish in either diocese. “It will take me a very long time to process the events,” Maureen said. “Nothing could have prepared me for the experience.” St. Paul the Apostle, New Orleans, will be the twinned parish. It is the first African American parish created in the 1940s, in a neighborhood that is now crime-ridden. The church and school were severely damaged, and the school will not reopen since most families have not yet returned to the area. The pastor is living in a FEMA trailer on the property. As they drove through the ninth ward, the California delegation “looked around in every direction and as far as the eye could see the homes were completely destroyed,” said Maureen. “There was a crew working on the levee but no other human activity. The only thing that can be done there is to have a fleet of bulldozers haul away the debris. Nothing is habitable. One home was pushed against another and now stands at a 45 degree angle to the ground.” Because the city is below sea level, officials can't dig a hole to place the debris. There is no landfill in the area. “I cannot imagine how this will be resolved,” she continued. “This debris will have to be trucked out to some vast land space. It will take thousands and thousands of trucks to do this.” The delegation met with New Orleans Archbishop Alfred Hughes, whom Maureen describes as “pastoral and faith-filled.” They learned that “priests who rose out of their own loss and considered the needs of the people found ways to restore a worship space, and the people are coming back to those parishes. The priests who were personally devastated and could not manage their own loss do not have parishioners returning.” A Sunday liturgical celebration had a theme of unity—all cultures coming together to bring New Orleans out of the ashes. “It was a moving tribute to Catholic faith and hope.” After the visit, a young woman who was on the trip organized a group of young adults who traveled to Louisiana in late June to do repair and recovery work. In September, four persons from the twinned parish came to Huntington Beach to meet parishioners and establish a mutual relationship. Return to Table of Contents. |
