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Stoner prepares to leave for Mobile, Sept. 5:

IS THIS THE WAY GOD TESTS HIS PEOPLE? ARE WE BEING GRADED OR EVALUATED ON A HEAVENLY PASS OR FAIL SCALE?

Growing up I heard it and even on television yesterday, I heard of so many events and tragedies that people claimed were "God’s test of a man’s faith." They were described to be deaths that would force people to run to God and finally believe in God’s love and kindness. Is that true?

My minister this passed Sunday once again spoke of a powerful, gentle and loving God. His message was one that spoke to my heart and encouraged my spirit and faith.

I don't believe God causes these events to teach us a lesson or to punish someone. I believe that God created this earth with love. God created the heavens and earth, and not so different from what was given to me; God also gave to this earth a freedom to be. What is happening in the Gulf Coast is nature. This is no punishment for "sins" or a rebellious nation. It's not so much an act of God as is the course of nature.

What I am doing in the Gulf Coast is not so much a reaction but a reflection, an internal calling to be of service. Not out of fear of God or an attempt to convert the victims, but out of a personal calling. Fredrick Buechner, a Presbyterian minister, once said about his thoughts on the word "calling." "A calling is when one of your greatest joys intersects with one of the world's greatest sorrows." You can give without depleting yourself because the gift will be replenished for you to give it again.
That's how a health care workers can care for the dying, day in and day out and yet continue to have hope.
My God doesn't create hardships or illness to teach me a lesson. This is life. He gives me strength and courage that grows into knowledge and then wisdom to know how to handle these situations. He gives me strength to make it through hard times. These times build my faith and trust.

Why are you going down there Daniel? What are you going to be doing? I’m going because my faith, not religion, leads me to reflect to others what my God has placed within me. I truly have no answer as to what I will me doing or the main purpose; I just know that I must listen to the voice within. I look at the skills I have been given and believe that there is a use for them in Mississippi. I can use a shovel, refill water bottles, watch children as parents search through the rubble or their home, or search while parents comfort their children. My prospective is "What do you need from me," instead of "What I will do for you."

My hope is that people of all faiths as well as of no religion will offer what they feel is theirs to give. These are not just Americans but people in need who live within half a day’s drive from our front door.

The churches and businesses of the Triad are opening their doors and pocketbooks to Katrina's refugees beginning this week. As we welcome these people who may have lost every material thing familiar to them, I ask that with compassion and gentleness we remember these are our neighbors.

Their worlds have changed possibly forever. By opening our doors and hearts, people of the Old North State will be forever enriched.

Stoner arrives in Mobile
9/6/05
10:30 a.m. Delta Flight 1650 to Atlanta

I'm now on my way to Mobile, Ala. instead of Biloxi, Miss. I didn't hear from the Red Cross yesterday so I made alternative plans. I had purchased my ticket last Tuesday into Biloxi, however Delta informed me on Sunday that the airport in Gulfport would be closed until 9/12/05. Delta changed my flight into Mobile based on that information. They’ve been so helpful by communicating with me every change in my flight and having options for me when they call.

My main goal is to help. Part of that help comes from not becoming another mouth to feed, person to house or juggle. I'm working with local agencies as a local volunteer. Clothes that are lightweight, easily cleaned, drip dry are the best. Trust me, it's OK to stink a little. No one cares.

I went online last night and found small family hotel in Mobile. It has power and some phone service. I contacted the Salvation Army of greater Mobile. Biloxi /Gulfport is 50 miles from Mobile. Mobile has damage but nothing like the Mississippi and Louisiana shoreline.

Sunday I contacted, by email a small Episcopal Church in Biloxi. I haven't heard back from them yet. Several of my friends and business associates are interesting in helping. We're hoping to find a small church or organization for us to focus our ongoing effort on.

I am looking for people to assist, for the long term, while they begin to rebuild their lives.

I believe by forming a relationship and bond with a small group in the region, it will commit us emotionally, physically, spiritually and financially. A connection after they’re out of survival mode. Just a thought at this point, but a good one.

It's weird to use the word "excited" to describe how I feel right now, but that's where I am. I truly love that area of the world and part of me needs to see and feel the loss.

I know I'll have different adjectives to share once I'm there and the comforts and security I know are gone.
I've been in Mobile for about 2 hours. The man sitting beside me on the plane offered to give me a ride into Mobile. The are no rental cars available for 30 miles. The downtown area was flooded but the water did recede after only a couple of days. The only people in town are construction workers, police officers, a few business people and the homeless. I found an old Shepard mix dog under a bush at the courthouse. He was exhausted and looks as if he had not eaten in a week. I approached him and he didn’t respond except for moving his eyes. I found a sandwich shop open about four blocks away. Well Sam, his new name, loves him some Subways. I brought him back to my room.

The mood is weirder than the normal weird mood for Mobile. They missed the storm by a hair, and they know it. The storm was too close physically for people to feel that life can go on as normal. They dodged the bullet but the person beside them got it. I made some good connections for work tomorrow.

Today: "He had been volunteering for 3 days to help the homeless and he had been homeless himself."
Sept.7, 2005

It’s a beautiful day in Mobile. That’s a good thing considering the amount of damage from Katrina and the number of people without proper shelter just to the south of us.

I got up this morning about 6:00 a.m. and found a wonderful surprise waiting for me at my front door. Sam, the dog I found the day before, was still sleeping just where I had left him the night before. I was so excited that I almost broke his back hugging him.

I had found a few places through the Yellow Pages to hit for volunteer work and I call them. The first one was All Saint Episcopal on Government Ave. They were fantastic. They happen to be located just 2 blocks from where I am staying so Sam and I could walk it, no trouble.

I arrived about five minutes before morning Communion service so things were a little busy. They ask me if I wanted to take communion, being Presbyterian I wasn't sure if that was OK. "Sure, why not" was the response I got from 3 ladies in unison. Sam was taken to the office to relax in air-conditioned luxury and enjoy some cold water. I suspect that was a treat he had not experienced in quite a long time. The priest spoke on the "Showing of one's face to the deep," deep meaning chaos and face meaning beliefs. That to face the deep (chaos) in your life you much stand and believe that calm and order are possible.

I needed to hear that and knew I was where I was supposed to be. After communion, I returned to the church office to find Sam had stolen the show. The office manager found Sam a good home with a large back yard.Brenda had offered to loan me a bike for the week and hooked me up with the Volunteer Mobile center. I was a happy camper.

It took about an hour to ride to the Emergency Distribution Center on Interstate 10, for groups including the American Red Cross. If I didn't know God had me were he wanted me, I doubt I would have been riding that old bike on Government Ave, four lane no less. The distribution center is in an old Sam's Club converted just for Katrina. I signed in and was immediately assign to the sorting area for food donations. Not corporate donation of palates of waters or truck loads of the same cereal. It was the boxes of assorted canned items or boxes of suggested dinners, very lovingly planned out and purchased by individual meaning nothing but to be helpful, nevertheless, each box must contain the same type item. Boxes of corn become a palate of corn; cases of water become a palate of water and so on. So that meant a box containing a jar of cranberry sauce, a can of green beans, can of cream corn, muffin mix, gravy mix, white cake mix, etc. (a complete dinner) had to disassembled -- reason being, when things are requested and shipped out, they are shipped by palates of the same items.

It's the only way mass distribution can take place and supplies can get to the people who prepare the food. It was very frustrating because of the red tape that's involved in getting packing tape. The government is telling us they will supply tape. Sharpies, among the many other supplies needed in just the one area I'm working with. Yet, 7 days later there are few to no supplies for preparing items for shipping. Volunteers, out of their own pockets, and the Red Cross are buying supplies. Now the stores around are running out of supplies. Very unnecessary. So I called my church, Westminster Presbyterian, along with Paul Russ at Hospice, and they jumped on it. Westminster sent out a huge box of 100 rolls of tape, etc. and Paul sent out an email to our friend group and they are sending supplies to the Distribution Center.

That address is
The American Red Cross
Distribution Center
1100 South Beltline Hwy.
Mobile, Alabama 36609

I would suggest if you want to send anything, send one type. One box of 20, or more, rolls of clear packing tape, packs of wide black sharpies, etc. Mark it "Packing Supplies," Attention: Distribution Manager.

I quickly rose to the head of the food assorting distribution area by being named the "most motivated." I’ve heard that before: it's code for bossy, but that's ok. John, a staff member, and I, along with 20 high school students, hit it hard. The contributions were definitely varied to say the least. People are giving more than I bet they are keeping for their own families. Kay, Cynthia, Greg and I formed an instant bond. The kind you form when you're working for the same goal, in high pressure and with limited time. Well. A 10-hour day seemed to fly by.

It was about time to leave when Greg asked me about the shelter in the area. I told him I wasn't sure where they all were but there was one near my place. "Why, do we need to drop something off there?" I asked. He replied, "Well, no."

He needed to stay at a shelter.

We had all worked together all day and Joe had not mentioned to anyone that for the past 7 days, since the storm hit, he had been living in his car. His home on the beach, which belonged to a friend from Colorado, had been destroyed. He had been volunteering for 3 days to help the homeless and he had been homeless himself.

All he wanted was a shower. It had been several days and he was embarrassed to even ask me if I knew somewhere he could bathe. I offered my place and he finally accepted. I assumed everyone around me would finish their day of helping and return to the comfort and security of a home. I assumed wronged. Greg came back to my place and showered. We sat on the step and chatted awhile. He moved back to the states from Ireland 2 weeks before Katrina hit. He had formed an alliance with some other displaced citizens, mostly the new homeless, where as they have "check-in" with each other.

I met people from everyone what of life today. Everyone working to help, any way they could. Tomorrow I may go the Gulfport with a convoy from the Red Cross.

There are Red Cross people here from France, Belguim and England.

God, thank you for today, and for the kindness I saw in the faces of so many people.

Thurs. 9/9/05
6:15 am
"Ouch." What did I expect would be my first words after a day like yesterday? No good deed goes unpunished, as they say. Showered, shaved, dressed and out the door, but Sam wasn’t there to greet me this morning.

Greg, from the Distribution Center, picked me up for work. He wasn't as quiet as he had been. He's a proud man. Pride is like a double-edged sword sometimes. It can keep you from doing things you shouldn't yet sometimes keep you from doing something you should, i.e. asking for help. I hope he soon finds that balance. I recognize the "Balance" dichotomy because I, too, suffer from it.

The Distribution Center was in full force by the time we arrived. The overnight trailers of bottled water were downloaded, processed and moved to their place on the warehouse floor. The stress and long hours are beginning to show on the faces of the crews. Yet they don't stop. The Belgium crew is amazing. Everyone continue pushing to get the next trailer load of supplies out to Gulfport or where ever.

9:15a.m.

John, the volunteer Mobile Staff person, asked if I could be a part of the Red Cross convoy delivering supplies into Biloxi. Ten minutes later I was being briefed by the Red Cross staff on the rules, regulations and protocol for dealing with Red Cross supplies.

Some procedures included: door locked at all times, truck windows up, police escort once off the interstate and wait for clearance before exiting the vehicle.

Were we entering a war zone or the gentle Southern town of Biloxi? I soon realized the thin layer of difference between the two. It took about 2 hours to travel the 50 miles between Mobile and Biloxi. The progression of destruction intensified every mile. First the billboards were damaged and there was more road litter than normal. Within 10 miles of the city limits of Biloxi, the true force of Katrina began to be revealed. It’s almost indescribable. The flood line of debris was about 12 ft. from the ground in areas. The definite horizontal line of trash, clothes and housing insulation ran parallel to the interstate.

"It looks like winter here," I said to Lynne, my team member. All the trees were bare, the leaves had been striped by the tremendous winds and the greenery was brown because of the salt water. The shoulders and curbs were lost beneath the debris and power lines weave within them like garland on a Christmas tree.

We pulled of the interstate and were met by the Mississippi Highway Patrol. They escort all relief personnel and transports. It's not only for navigational purposes, because most streets are impassable so alternate routes are in place, but earlier in the week it was for the protection and to safeguard the supplies.

I can't describe it. I just can't. I took a few photos of the areas near the highway but they just can't show the immense damage. A boat was resting perfectly on top of a drive-thru restaurant. As if someone had carefully placed it there with no concern about the structure beneath. We arrived at the Methodist church where the local victims could receive basic supplies. People, dazed and exhausted, smiled as we walked up. I felt almost as if they saw us not so much as relief workers but as though we held the key to making things the way they were. A Vietnamese man I met had lost everything.

I'll try to describe what it is like. Imagine standing on your front porch and looking across your street. Everything that is familiar to you. Look passed your neighbor's home, past the next row of houses, past the next street, seeing the lights of the neighborhood beyond yours. Now imagine it's all gone. Gone. Not just your home and front porch but your trees, and your neighbor’s home and trees, the street behind you is gone. If it’s not completely taken away it’s buried beneath layers of downed trees. What you know as a symbol of your visible reality is gone. The Vietnamese man spent the last 31 years bringing his and his wife's family to the United States. They owned 2 businesses, 3 houses and I believe he said 5 cars. "Nothing, no more." Nothing, he kept repeating.

"Don't cry Daniel," I said silently to myself.
"Let him see hope on my face," I thought, "and be someone to listen to him grieve."

It sound a little self-center but I don't mean it that way. The other volunteers and I represent hope. Sure we are bringing supplies and food but we also, in someway, bring back a little of yesterday. Yesterday when things were better. The faces of some of them seemed very confused toward their surroundings. As if they had been picked up then dropped down on the moon. Betty was the head of the church’s relief efforts.

It's surprising, not really, that almost all the shelters are headed by women. She invited us to sit down for lunch. A group from northern Alabama had driven down with a feast of fried chicken, green beans, slaw, iced tea, etc. for the church staff. Betty invited us to join them. We declined and stated that we would begin downloading the palates.

"Nobody works during dinner when I’m in charge," Betty said.
"We’d loved to it you're sure there's enough," Lynne quickly replied.
"It's the first hot meal we've had in seven days," Betty added.
I walked away for a moment. They had not eaten a hot meal in a week, yet refused to eat while we worked. I don’t understand the human spirit in times like these. How can a disaster bring some, like Betty, limitless compassion and resilience yet push others to pick up arms? They hoard more supplies and food then they can ever use. Leaving others without.

That will be question 249 to ask God. I have a list going since that age of 6.

The convoy that I was a part of included three others from eastern North Carolina. We finished downloading the supplies and headed to Gulfport, Miss. What an awful drive. Nothing was left undamaged. Those huge billboards that line the interstate were bent as if they had simply melted in the hot Mississippi sun. Mounds of trash (what used to be furnishings and family treasures) litter the road.

As we entered the neighborhood I had not been prepared for what I experienced. The surplus fish from the fish distributors on the coast had been pushed, by the surge, 3 miles inland. This neighborhood, buried beneath countless trees, had thousands of rotting fish. People still had to continue to survive. This was, is, their home. Fuel is hard to find for even chain saws.

Our final drop was to a shelter out in the country. Water is being restored but is not suitable for drinking. The drive was very reflective. Lynne and I knew that they laughter and light hearted conversation on the trip down would fade, but we did realize just how much. We discussed how part of our main job was to listen. Just to listen. Listen to the fears, the pain, the loss and the anger.

Just listening can sometimes be a challenge for Daniel Stoner.

But I, don't ask me how, did just listen. We turned off the highway and stopped to comprehend what was in front of us. Almost complete destruction. It was like Paul Bunyan had used a huge dull machete and clear-cut every tree as far as we could see. The trees, 12 or so feet from the ground, were gone, broken, twisted or split. All of the debris had to fall somewhere and it fell onto the houses and the roads. Commercial chain saws had cut a clear passage along the main road. We could see very few homes because of the amount of debris. Signs were placed along the road telling passersby what they needed and even more surprisingly, what they had to offer. "We need gas." "We have extra water," for example. It didn't say trade or sell, it said "have extra." Amazing. Yes Lynne and I are crying as we drive the truck at this point.

Everyone is dirty and tried. Some of the victims' tempers are short and yet others are so passive. This is Gulfport, Mississippi not some remote island. I remember this area five years ago. It was the quintessential southern country road. Massive live oaks branches with Spanish moss hovered over the road. Very little of those remain.

It's been 8 days since the storm and people still say "Thank you" as you hand them supplies. This one guy, his family and I, at the last stop, had a great laugh. He was talking about being so dirty and he knew he was really dirty because he stopped being able to smell himself. "That's pretty damn bad," he said. "When you know you smell like ... but you can't even tell anymore, that's bad. But we don't have any damn water." He said a few more four letter words and then look at me as if he had seen a ghost. "Man, I'm so sorry about my mouth. My mama raised me better than that."

Then he started to cry. I went out on a limb and said "This is a damn Red Cross truck not a church one." He started laughing. "Thank you, man. You knew what I thinking." "Yeah, it's all good. We're just here to help." I said. I received some great hugs from him and his family. It was a good thing he had lost the sense of smell for awhile also. The drive back took almost 3 hours. The day ended about 10 p.m.

Friday
9/10/05
8:05 am

I arrived at the Distribution Center to find a ton of volunteers. School groups and other civic organizations had devoted half days of work. Kay, second place in the most motivated category, had done a fantastic job organizing the food area. There were a lot of people here today working. So I decided to find a place that needed help beyond here. I called Volunteer Mobile and the shelter town down was suggested.

I rode the bike into town where I found a group of women loading a truck. They had been collecting food and baby products over the past week and were in the midst of trying to load a 21-ft U Haul. The large boxes had been packed very carefully while sitting on the floor. Thus when the time came to pick up the boxes, they were very heavy. We got them loaded in about 2 hours. Mission accomplished. I rode down to All Saints, the church that had been so helpful, to check in on Sam. Sam was doing fine but they had not found him a foster home yet. Before I realized what was going on, I was on the phone to Delta inquiring about the availability of a ticket for Sam to Greensboro. Delta informed me that they had flown 150 animals to Cincinnati in the past 4 days. A non-for profit group was helping air lift animals out of here. The shelters in Mobile are over flowing with animals. Margaret, my guardian angel while I've been here, offered a carrier for Sam. It had to be a solid plastic on, not a collapsible one, for the plane. I agreed to foster Sam in Greensboro, continuing to look for his owners here, for a few months or so. Sam is so sweet.

Another bonus, the Krispy Kreme on Government Ave gives out-of-town volunteers a free donut a day. Score. I’m riding a bike 10 miles a day so I could completely justify it.

The square here has a lot more "homeless" people everyday. People carrying suitcases instead of plastic bags. I couldn't find the shelter. So I stopped for bottled water. It was cold and hit the spot. I passed a homeless looking man on the street and he yelled out "You got more water?" He didn't ask for money. He asked for water. I turned around and told him I'd be right back. I was standing at the counter at the convenience store, the clerk asked me how many bottles I needed, and it dawned on me. That's what I can do for a while today. I bought about twelve waters and went to the square. I walked around and chatted with people and passed them out. Most were Mobile regulars but a few were from the southern county. One lady had a dog and the shelter wouldn’t let her stay. She opted to say on the street than give up her dog. The dog got some refreshment also. I ended up passing out about 30 bottles today. I met some people that were a little leery. Why is this guy passing out waters? But they still took it.

It's just water. It's basic. But when you don't have it, it's more than water. I'd like to think when I get back to Greensboro that I'd buy a small cooler. Keep it in my car and pass out water to people as freely as I did here today. I wonder what lasting effect this will have on my view of water and others.

I met up with a group passing out sandwiches. They are from the local gay and lesbian organization. They've been feeding the people who won't, for whatever reason, go to the shelters. They invited me to a karaoke benefit tonight. I love the thought of karaoke but I've only been able to do it once. Mobilians have been so wonderful and gracious to me while I've been here.

Oh, some sad news. The small Episcopal Church, Church of the Redeemer in Biloxi, was completely destroyed. I spoke with the office manager yesterday. She said that there was only a small section of one wall left standing. The congregation, as far as they knew, had few casualties. They have no idea what will be their course of action will be at this point. She asks that we continue to keep them in out thoughts and prayers.

I've been without television or radio since I've been here so I have limited information as to what is going on in the rest of the world. I hear the reports from New Orleans from the FEMA workers and others who have been there. They say it beyond words and some say beyond repair. That’s hard to comprehend. "A Toxic Wasteland." There are several FEMA and other relief organizations making Mobile their base. Another crazy thing here is that real estate showings are up something like 200 percent since the storm. People and businesses are renting /buying home sites unseen. Most are from Gulfport, Bay St. Louis or Biloxi.

Im to work at the night shelter this evening, 3:00-9:00pm. I'll give karaoke a try tonight. I'm getting a little tried physically but mentally I want to continue to do what I can. People have helped me so much. I am so grateful.

Sat.
9/10
I woke up this morning feeling very odd. For me feeling a little odd is not unusual, compared to most people, but today I can't get this story out of my mind. A few months ago I was at a social gathering in Greensboro. A man, very nice looking and well dressed, was visiting and told me a story that continues to linger in my heart and mind. He had been a very successful businessman in Florida. I'm changing the state and his name for his anonymity. He had some personal problems and struggles that he was not dealing with very well. His wife left him and the legal battle began.

After a year or so of costly court cases and legal fees, she got half of what he had before the separation. He went into bankruptcy and eventually lost everything. He had little family and no children. He used a "Liquid Band-aid" to get him through the rough times. He ended up on the streets of Miami. Walking the same streets that he used to drive a 700 series down every morning. He couldn't afford the coffee shop any longer, nor the bagel store or the café. Months past and he was now living on the street. He would see people he knew and they wouldn't speak. Strangers would toss him change without him asking for it but would not look at him. He would go to shake someone's hand and they would not reach out for his. This continued for almost three years.

He didn't have physical contact with anyone else for almost three years. No one spoke his name or look him in the eye with any respect. I can't imagine not hearing my name for three years. Finally, he said, "I felt I had one chance left and I had to take it." He took off the bandage, called some old business vendors, got a job, got a apartment, rode the bus, starting selling for his old competition, got a promotion, got a house, made manager, etc, etc….

Nine years later better of financial than he was before. He said he'd rather not go through it again but he would do it again to keep what he had learned in the past nine years. The best lesson was to look people in the eye when you shake their hand. Did I shake people's hands yesterday when I was passing out waters? I did for most people but not for all. I did introduce myself and most people said their names back.

Maybe that's why the story is stuck in my mind. Yesterday, by simply shaking someone's hand, I could have been breaking a cycle for him or her. My dad, Allen, he died in June, was known for his handshake and smile. Today, I'll make shaking hands as important as the "Big Stuff."

It's after 9 a.m. and I’m running late. I’ll write later.

It's later and I'm exhausted. I hauled debris for a local neighbor today. I saw them working on the street and asked if they needed help. Of course they said yes. It's a really nice feeling when people asked me if I'm from here. I say no, I'm just here to help. They usually hug me or say something nice about North Carolinians. A man today said to me "you must have a great mom and dad." I said "Sure do." Nite dad