Leaving Mississippi

It was so hard to drive away. I had come to love the Mississippi coast and its people. I had become part of Bethel Lutheran Hurricane Katrina Ministry and the people who labor to accomodate the volunteers and create a place for those most affected by the storm to find hope and help. It was so good to work side by side with Judy Bultman, Judy Jones, Dorothy and Donna, Lisa and all the volunteers who, like me came to stay to be part of this mighty work: Heather and Carol Lee, Kelli and Allison, Andy, Ed and Eunice, and all the cooks who graced our tables with their loving labors.

It had been good work for me to sit in the clinic with people who needed healing, to hear their stories, and to pray with them. It had been good work to offer Bible passages for volunteers to wear or carry with them each day as a focus, keeping their work rooted in God's work. It had been good work to lead Lectio Divina in the mornings for staff to rest a minute in God's word before the overwhelming demands of a day filled with emergencies and sorrows and miracles. I wanted to find a place in Mississippi. I wanted to create a home for myself there among those people who still need healing and beside those people who walk with them toward a restored future. But it was not to be. The grants that would have provided such an opportunity came attached to work that required credentials I did not have, and separating the requiements I could not meet was complicated at best. It seemed like a closed door. At the same time, through the gracious invitation of Bethel's Pastor, Gerry Bultman and his colleagues in the conference, I was able to attend weekly text study and monthly cluster meetings. I missed being a pastor more and more as I spent time with pastors. It became clear to me that in order to pursue a placement as a first-call pastor, I would have to recommit to that process and go home. So I left the Mississippi Coast on February 23, heading to brother Richard and sister-in-law Dianne in Dallas one more time on my way west.

I learned so much at Bethel. I learned that communities grieve like people grieve. I learned how God is present in a special way to those who need God's presence the most. I learned to expect God to provide everything that is needed for ministry, and saw miracles every day. I learned that you can see God's face in the people you work with and in the people you serve. And most of all, I learned that those who answer God's call to help receive blessing on blessing, beyond any of the help they give or the gratitude they receive for it. I made deep friends with others who worked the long hours in the popcorn-popper atmosphere of emergency ministry. There was hardly a moment to breathe, and there were many days in which I never saw anything outside of the building I worked in or the parking lot in which my camper lived.

But this experience has shaped my future ministry. I know now that a church can be used in every nook and cranny every moment of the week to provide ministry. Such a ministry can be a beacon not only to the neighbors it serves, but to those who come to work in it and have their faith regenerated by the work in which they have particpated. Volunteers go home filled with a new measure of God's Spirit to regenerate their own ministries. It was a privilege to live that renewal, and I will be eternally grateful to the people of Bethel Lutheran Church for welcoming all the volunteers who come to serve, but especially for the generosity with which they welcomed me.

One morning in the clinic orientation I introduced myself as Almost-Pastor Barbara, explaining that though I seved in some pastoral capacities there, I was not ordained yet. One of the volunteers called me "Almost" for the rest of the week and the name stuck. I will be ordained someday. I hope it will be soon. But Amost-Pastor Barbara has become a name of special honor to me. I will treasure it always.