Hurricane Sandy

Or, as a few of the locals on Staten Island, New York, are calling it, “Tsunami Sandy.”  According to one man whose home I worked on this weekend, giant waves of ocean water suddenly overtook his street “like a river” immediately covering everything with 3 feet of water.  Subsequent waves brought the water level on his street up to 5 ½ feet.

He showed us a video he had taken on his phone of his now ruined car, still running, barely visible  under the water flooding his street.

He told us, “I swam from my car to the house with my two little kids on my back.  At first it was easy, but then after the second wave it was hard to swim.  I had to go back to the car for my third son and all I could do was drag him back to the house through the water.”

This family had to escape out the windows because the water pressure prevented them from opening their car doors. 

“They told us to prepare for the wind,” he said, “But no one told us to prepare for so much water.”

He told us about all of the people who died in a nearby school-turned-shelter and how FEMA and the police were keeping the true death toll under wraps.  We admired his lovely kitchen as we ripped drywall out of his once beautiful home, floorboards soggy beneath our feet.

My congregation, comprised of young, single adult members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints living in Philadelphia, we anxious to help make a dent in the staggering cleanup efforts still ongoing on Staten Island.

We trudged along the filthy streets, hauling shovels and empty paint buckets while wearing our bright yellow vests, as Humvees rolled past and helicopters flew overhead.  This sparked more that one distasteful post-apocalyptic zombie joke. 

Military personnel, FEMA representatives, and countless other volunteer workers dotted the neighborhood, carrying water-damaged debris out into the streets as garbage trucks, front loaders, and Bob Cats ran back and forth and back and forth, clearing and re-clearing the muddy roads of rotting wood, twisted metal, crumbling drywall, and garbage.

[Me, above]

One old woman called us all “angels” as we stripped what was left of her home to the bare frame.

Here’s some more of what we saw:

 One mile from the shore, this boat somehow landed here, with holes punched all through it and its windows shattered.

 The streets, full of destroyed appliances being pushed around by heavy machinery

Talk about a crack in the foundation...

 Getting a snack from the Red Cross Disaster Relief.

Here’s our group, at the end of a back-breaking day, feeling grateful for what we have, grateful for our ability to serve, and with the tune of the hymn “Have I Done Any Good in the World Today” resonating from our hearts and lips.

As we left, parents encouraged their children to hand out food and juice boxes to the volunteers.  It was hard to see the damage done to people’s property and lives, but it was so good to see the strength and unity that the community showed.

It was a vivid reminder that above almost any attribute, service, to me, seems to be the thing that characterized the Savior’s ministry most accurately.

“…when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.” Mosiah 2:17

[photos by the GOES 13 Satellite, Me, Becky M., and random passers by]

[Originally published at http://scatterthesunshine.blogspot.com/]