Where Do I Belong?

I’ve been sitting in what the Red Cross calls a non-congregant shelter for the last few days. Others would call it a hotel. We are partnered with the Urban League whereby one funds the rooms and the other staffs the site and distributes meals for lunch and supper (the hotel provides breakfast). Slowly I’ve been meeting and learning about my clients, all of whose homes were heavily damaged in the mid-May tornadoes in Saint Louis. I’ve been pondering the question of where I belong as I witness my clients doing the same.

It occurs to me that there are at least two components to the question: 1) physically, where should I live, where should I be at any given moment? 2) with whom should I associate, with whom do I want to be affiliated?

Beginning with the first, as I listen to my clients I hear a variety of desires. While one continues to visit her unharmed garden each day it doesn’t serve as an anchor. She is looking for an affordable permanent home where others of her generation reside. Others want to rebuild or find another way to return to the neighborhood they hold so dear. I had clients cleaning up tree debris this morning in a heat index approaching 100 degrees. Such is the drive to get back home, to normalcy. Some just want to find a place to call home, wherever it may be. Others are a bit paralyzed by the enormity of the decision such that even starting the process is hard.

I get it. Some of my colleagues come to disasters with a specific job in mind. They are disappointed if that desire cannot be met. Some of my non-congregant shelter colleagues wish they had more to do, because they are doers, not sitters. I’ve learned a lot about the Red Cross and disaster recovery operations over the last nine months. So, when my supervisor asked yesterday if I wanted to try something else, I told her to look at me like a chess piece—put me where you think I can do what is most needed.

There is an old saying that birds of a feather stick together. In terms of housing, whether by choice and/or systemic racism we often see neighborhoods consisting mostly of persons of the same race or ethnic group; you see the same thing in cafeterias across the country. I had a non-client approach me today. She grew up in St. Louis but left in her twenties. Today she recognizes the privilege she had to be raised in one of the “good neighborhoods” and carries some guilt because the “poor” neighborhood across the street from her childhood home took the brunt of the twister. She has some money “burning a hole in my pocket” and would I look the other way so she could leave it on the table because I’m not allowed to directly take donations (she now knows how to make an allowable donation). Had I not been sitting in the hotel in which she was staying while wearing my Red Cross gear and listening to her story, would there have been serious thought about her donation? I like to think were both where we were supposed to be this morning.

Many of the clients have jobs. I get the sense they don’t just go to work each day for money. In addition, they have places to go with people who care about them, support them, give them purpose. One walks each day, regardless of heat. That is where she finds her spiritual center and from which she learns what decisions to make. One felt drawn to her church for their “give away” program today to provide items for those affected by the storm. Interestingly, though impacted, she went to give to others. She belongs there.

I keep being drawn to my volunteerism because I continue to find myself in places and with people who give me a sense of purpose, a feeling of belonging. I don’t go on every fire call or disaster to which I’m requested. I don’t wait for the right feeling to tell me what to do; instead, it seems that time and opportunity continue to give me the chance to be where I belong. Wherever I am, it seems I’m among people who provide the personal sustenance I need to carry forward. At times, that is at home and at others it is in an unfamiliar location. One can belong in many situations and places, I guess.