I’ve written before about our return to Joplin one month after an F5 tornado devastated our Missouri community, and it’s been on my mind again lately. It’s not because of the approaching fourteenth anniversary of the event on May 22. Nor is it because of the recent release of the Netflix documentary focusing on Joplin, The Twister: Caught in the Storm. No, it’s actually because of a March 27 article in Christianity Today titled “Donated Clothes Still Being Sorted in Appalachia.”
“[S]ix months after the disaster,” writes Isaac Wood, referring to Hurricane Helene, “First Baptist Church of Roan Mountain is still swimming in donations.”
“We’ve still got probably 10,000 toothbrushes,” pastor Geren Street tells Christianity Today. “We’ve still got 20-something pallets of water bottles. I can’t tell you how much water we’ve given away, and to look out there and still see 20-something pallets? It’s crazy.”
I understand. While my oldest son was already living in Joplin when the tornado hit, the rest of us came back a few weeks later, in time to experience “the disaster after the disaster.” That’s what a friend who was instrumental in our church’s response efforts called it. So much was given to help the people of our community: the toothbrushes, the bottles of water that we all were drinking months later, the containers of clothing needing to be sorted by sex, by size, and by whether they were even wearable. And then there was the truckload of hundreds of flip flops with soles that would leave behind a picture in wet sand.
I thought my friend had made up the phrase “the disaster after the disaster.” But it turns out he probably heard it from one of the seasoned relief workers who’d shown up to help. Wood’s article points to several experts referring to the massive inpouring of donations—especially used clothing—as “the second disaster,” “a second-tier disaster,” and yes, “the disaster after the disaster.“
People experienced in relief work know to watch for the difficulties that follow natural disasters. They anticipate not only the need to take care of donations that demand huge amounts of time, space, and attention, but they also know to warn counselors, therapists, religious leaders, teachers, and parents to watch for the spiritual, mental, and emotional issues that will arise for months and years to come.
For some of you, who have faced or will face natural disasters in your part of the world, there’s practical advice here. But for all of us, in other areas of our lives and work, we can apply the lesson of looking out for how a solution can bring its own challenges, how an answer can lead to more questions. It’s “the thing after the thing.” . . .
– You’ve gone through a particularly difficult time on the field, and a care team arrives to help you recover. Their coming is certainly beneficial, but if you find yourself stressed with hosting them, don’t think you’re crazy or ungrateful. It’s the thing after the thing.
– You endure a traumatic time in your country and after it’s resolved, all should be easier, but the calm after the storm leaves room for a flood of difficult emotions and hurts that you’ve been forcing yourself to ignore. Now they work their way to the surface.
– A college group arrives and you accompany them on a week of service projects and fun activities. After they leave, you find yourself bickering with your spouse or kids or teammates.
– The debriefing following a big, successful event is as difficult as it is celebratory. And then you end up needing to debrief from the debriefing.
– The church you’ve planted finally purchases a building for their weekly meetings. Now it seems that looking for a permanent place to worship was a lot more fun than managing the location the congregation now owns.
– You travel back to your passport country hoping for some down time with family and friends. When you get back to the field, you need to recover.
– After an arduous climb towards a long hoped-for goal, you reach the summit, but it’s during your descent on the other side, when you let your guard down, that you’re more susceptible to tripping and falling.
– You’re burned out and broken and decide you need to return “home.” After you get there, you find that while the move is necessary, you’re not problem free. Instead, you’re wresting with new problems . . . and old problems dressed up in the garb of a different culture.
Things happen. Be sure to watch for them.
But knowing that the thing after the thing is coming doesn’t mean that you can simply get out ahead of it and make it go away. It’s kind of like dealing with culture shock. No matter how much we talk about it, regardless how much we ready ourselves and try to avoid it, it will find us at our new destination. But anticipating the thing after the thing can help us mitigate some of its effects and allow us to give ourselves grace as we’re sorting it out.
Sorting it out. Sounds as if we’re back to the donated clothing again, those needy piles that call out for time, space, and attention. Knowing that the thing after the thing will be coming, how can you prepare? How can you plan beforehand to make sure that you and your coworkers will have the extra time, extra space, and extra attention necessary to give to what arises after you might have thought everything would be taken care of?
Now could be a good time to get ready for those flip-flops. They’ll be on their way. And while they’re not nearly as big a deal as a tornado, that doesn’t mean they’re not still a thing.
photo: “Binoculars V,” by Chase Elliot Clark, used under a Creative Commons license]
