Church

This morning Catherine was going to drive out to the beach near our kitchen to show a new volunteer the damage over there, and although I had already seen it I decided to come along. There was nothing to do at the kitchen anyway. We eventually made our way back to old town Bay St. Louis, which I had also already seen. At the Baptist Church where we make a delivery there happened to be Sunday church service going on. Just as we were leaving I told Catherine to stop the car. For some reason I felt compelled to sit in on the service for a while, so I got out and told her I'd meet her back at the kitchen later on.

The church was a full house, perhaps 80 people. I think every other person there was white. The church itself had recieved damage from the storm... one of the walls was ripped out from water damage. But in general it was in better shape than most buildings in old town. I walked in during a song (hymn?) which was really nice. There was some sort of horn (sounded like a trumpet), piano, and guitar playing behind the singing (the band was out of view from me in the front). I think the most outstanding characteristic of the music was that it was very melodious. After the music, the next thing I noticed were the people around me. Some were in tears, others were singing devotedly with their eyes closed, even young kids.

After the song the pastor (dressed in plain clothes) announced that a new family had joined the community/church, and invited the father to give his story. It was odd that a family was actually moving into the area, so I was interested. It turned out that the man had a few successful construction businesses in another part of MS, but one day he had a calling from God to "build houses for free." He then went about doing that for some time, when Katrina hit. He saw it as a sign to come to Gulf Port and help out. After spending some time here, he decided he needed to stay and thus moved his whole family down. It was a pretty touching story to listen to. He also said how "the voice of Christ was there, I just never listened to it." He read some passages from the Bible that inspired him to make the decision, but got too choked up and couldn't finish. It was very emotional, and it actually brought me to tears. After his testimony, there was more singing but I left. Later on I regretted not staying till the end of the service to mingle with the congregation, but in retrospect I think I left because I couldn't handle the emotion.

Back at the kitchen I was sitting around when a young black kid wandered in. The security guys who NEVER do anything walked all the way across the kitchen to question him. Luckily I was nearby and asked the guy himself if I could help him out. His name was Lorenzo, and had come looking for medicine for a cold. I told him we didn't have any, but told him he could take some water, tea, and a box of oranges. I walked the stuff over to his place which was just across the street. His house looked like it hadn't been completely built. Inside there was just an empty space and it smelled like some chemicals.

I'm recording this encounter for two reasons. One, because I felt some friction helping this guy out at the kitchen from other volunteers. Walking around with him, trying to get stuff for him to take, I felt that people were staring. One volunteer indirectly asked me to give him the canned water (he had a supply of filtered water that came in aluminum cans, but it sucked because it tasted like its container) instead of the bottled. The other reason is that I think that there are plenty of black people around the area that need help, but it's partially their fault that they aren't getting any because they aren't asking. I told Lorenzo to tell everyone he knew that we were there for whatever we could help them with. But I can see why he hesitates to ask for help... there is some impalpable friction. But it could just be me.