Waveland Chronicles Part 1

Waveland, MS
Sunday, March 18th, 2007
6:42 am

Intro
It would be wrong for me not to start this journal without a notation of the events that sent them into place. In my previous letter, I explained how the effects the Hurricane Katrina touched the soul of all. The church I belong to began raising funds and awareness for this trips over 3 months ago, now that I am actually here, I understand why. More about that later. So lets backtrack a couple of days to Friday, when my “vacation time” began.

Friday, March 16th

My day started early, I tried to finish packing but I was unable before I had to depart to work. This meant a return trip to Orlando to finish my laundry and pick up my little odds and ends. Once I reached work, a hurricane of sorts affected me. Funny how the week before Friday seem calm to the storm of ensued @ 9:01am once the office opened. My new cell phone was a buzz with people texting me their new numbers, and I began receiving instructions on the days events. My trip leaders contacted me to remind me to make sure I was able to pick up the van from the rental spot in Orange City. My weekly reports and a couple of monthly reports were due all before I departed. The local sheriff’s department also stopped by to take a tour of the property, how convenient. I was swamped in work up to my ears and saw no escape. That overwhelming feeling began to creep in as I felt that I had bitten off more than I could chew. Through it all, I knew I could make it, if I just endured.

As the clock hit 3:08pm I was walking towards my car. My work day now over, I had left instructions with my co-workers for the week to follow. My task for the day had amazingly been completed and I felt confident knowing that I was beating I-4 traffic and would make it to Orange City by 4pm. Of course, I-4 did not cooperate on its half and I was forced to bend a couple of the local speeding laws en route to making it there on time. Once I made it to Orange City exit, my heart leapt. I drove past the local cemetery and could not bear to look to my right.

I had volunteered in the previous trip meeting to be a van driver, so showing up at the Budget Rentals was almost comical to me. Oliver King, a responsible driver, it funny just typing that. I was entrusted with a white 12-passenger van, woohoo!! This was going to get interesting. I left my car behind and drove home. My mom was waiting to bring me back out to the Budget to pick up my car. Once I got my car, I had a couple more stops to make.

My first stop was to Cingular to try and figure out my new phone. It is one of those smart phones that truly might be smarter than I am….which is not saying much, but nevertheless very frustrating. After a brief tutorial on how to use my phone, I was on to my next stop.
March 16th marked the date that my Father passed away. Seven years ago I got a call that change my life. His body was laid to rest in Orange City cemetery lot. I felt it necessary to pay my respects. As I drove up to the lot, I felt ashamed. My life was not exactly where I wanted it to be. I had questioned some of my actions and ethics in the previous months at work and in life. Would my father be proud? I doubt it? I was humbly approaching his grave with a remorse I had not felt in years. I knew that this was a crucial visit. This would set the tone for my weeks trip. Surely he would be proud of that. Yet I didn’t know what to say. As I walked up to the grave sight, I saw the words KING spelled out. The tears began to form. Fighting them back, I bowed my head shamefully, I knew he loved me and still does, but I knew he was disappointed in some of my decisions. How do you say I am sorry to someone who no longer exist? As I began my confessions, I felt a little better. A rush of memories soon followed. The laughs began to trickle as I remembered so many wonderful memories of my dad. A smile appeared and my soul had been blessed. I reached in my pocket to grab my new phone to snap a photo to send to my brothers and sisters. As I looked at my phone the message read “Battery at Critical Level, Replace or Recharge”.

That was my message, my omen, my mission for the week. I needed to replace and recharge my battery, the things that motivated me were not material, but spiritual. A year ago, I was in Jamaica immersed in a deep spiritual state. I had such a close connection to God and all the things he has given us. I somehow forgot he was in charge of all things that are. I needed to replace the things in the my life that took me away from his love and get a spiritual recharge.

Thanks Dad, you always knew the right words to say.


Saturday March 17th

The day started just after midnight in Wal-mart. I had to pick up a few items for my trip. A selection of Haribo Gummy Bears where on the top of my list of course!! The clientele in a Wal Mart after midnight definitely changes. I am not sure what it is, but the freaks definitely come out at night. After my return home, I finished packing up my stuff got ready for bed. My head hit the pillow shortly after 2am. I knew the 5am wake-up call would be a difficult one, but fortunately my battery where recharged.

As I arrived at the church shortly after 6am, I was buzzing. I think the overall excitement of taking a missionary trip provided me with the extra adrenaline to overcome what should have been a tired body. Some of my other fellow trip takers did not share my excitement. I was probably that irritating guy who always had energy in the morning. To top it all, I had my camera and was taking pictures with a bright flash of everyone for this journal. Boy did they love that!!

We got on the road right at about 8am. 100 yards form the church parking we made our first stop. Someone forgot some papers and needed to return to the church. This was definately foreshadowing for things come. We had a small caravan of vans and trailers. 41 persons overall were packed in 4 vans and one truck hauling a trailer of supplies and luggage. My van was slotted in the third spot. In my van we varied from age 15 to 66. It was a great group and we really got to know each other on the way up. Traveling across the country with persons aging in age from 1 to 66 meant that we had stops. We had a bunch of stops. Potty breaks happened every other hour and it took us 3 ½ hours to get to Gainesville. This trip normally takes me 2 when I visit my brother. Still, I enjoyed the ride. I was the driver and didn’t mind the breaks, as I was able to stock up on Starbucks double espressos.

Shortly after 8:30pm we pulled into the city of Waveland. The sun had already set and barely left a hint of pint purple on the horizon. As we navigated our way to our destination, we were appalled by the level of damage still visible even at the darkest of hours. A slow creep down roads with no name and we finally made it to our home for the next week.

A two story home that with stood the brunt of the storm’s force and is now the headquarters for the 40 volunteers who lie within its walls. The house that I now call home is a sea of cots and air mattresses. I am currently sharing a small room lined wall to wall with single bed cots. I did not even have enough room to inflate my air mattress, alas; my trip is not about comfort. We are here to help people, surely I could sleep six to a room for a week of my life, and at least we have a roof over our heads.

As we unpacked our things, my body showed unexpected strength considering the days long drive and the previous nights deprived rest. I was still living off the adrenaline I showed in the morning and became more excited as the obstacles and difficulties appeared. I wouldn’t want it any other way. Sure it would have been great to be staying in some luxury hotels, but for what, to sleep comfortably when the people we are serving could not? No, I like sleeping next to men who saw logs all night. At this moment, there is no place I would rather be.
AS my head hit the pillow, I had time to reflect on all events that lead to that first nights rest: All the people who supported us. All the planning that went into the trip. All the sacrificed hours for work and school that each individual had made. Every hour worked to help financially support this endeavor. All the patience that would be required to make 40 egos mesh together. Some people do not believe in miracle’s but for us to drive 600 miles to Waveland without incident, the first of many miracle’s happened on March 17th!!