It only takes a spark...

Part of the reason why I just posted two blog posts and I'll post a third, in one evening, even though I adjusted the time/date, is because the last several days have been filled with fires.

We only had one boy come for kids' time on Friday night, so I sat and played chess with him.  When we were done, he called his grandma to come pick him up.  She said that she couldn't since she had no gas in her vehicle.  I agreed to take him home, which was only two miles.

After I took him home, Alicia and I headed to Chadron, Nebraska, which is the closest town with anything of significance outside of Pine Ridge.  Significance?  Wal-mart and the movie theater.  Wahooooo.  We went to Chadron for dinner with the Presbyterian minister, his wife and his family.  We had heard about several forest fires in the area, but didn't have a sense of how serious they were.  When we arrived at the restaurant, it was pointed out that the state police had shut down the road up to the traffic light down from the traffic light where we were at.  The minister's daughters were reading off texts describing areas that were being evacuated and roads that were closing.  It suddenly became very serious and very real that these forest fires were destructive.  Growing up in Western Pennsylvania, I've never been around a forest fire.  If you tell me a blizzard is coming, I make sure to have enough food in the house, find the candles, fill up a few jugs of water (for when the well goes out) and grab blankets.  Forest fires...what the heck do you do for forest fires??!!  As I sat surrounded by people who have made me a part of their family here, but still feeling very new and disoriented at times, I wasn't quite sure how to process these fires.  The minister's wife asked him to pray, so we grabbed hands and he began to lead us in prayer.  For those of you who know me well, you know that I am a cryer.  I've gotten better...I swear!  I don't cry as much as a I used to, but I still cry.  As he began to pray for all the people evacuating, the firefighters, the EMTs, etc, etc, I started to well up with tears.  It wasn't just a fire; this was a natural disaster that was forcing people to evacuate their homes, in a place where many homes aren't very stable.  My mind raced back to the boy who's grandmother couldn't pick him up from the center, because she was out of gas.  She is one of easily 35 people who I know didn't have gas this week, since the other 34 knocked on the door asking for gas money.  If we're evacuating, how do those people without gas get out?  We've been praying for the people affected by Hurricane Isaac.  How do those people without gas money get out?  What about the 9th Ward Katrina victims?  What about the "least of these" all over the world, time and time again being left behind because they didn't have money or physical resources to "get out"?  I lost it.  The tears began to flow without sign of ceasing.  Thankfully, our heads were still bowed, but I tried to cover my tears as much as possible.  How are we living in a world where so many people are trapped, every day, by man-made problems of poverty?  The fire of tears was fueled by my own realization that the children in the room were unaffected by the news of the fires.  They continued to laugh and play, some on their iPads and hand-held games.  I realized on this night that my innocence is gone.  I am an adult, because I can no longer sit and be blissfully unaware about the pain and suffering in the world.

Once we finished praying, the dear minister noticed my tears and came around to hug me.  His wife did too, which sent me into more tears, since I felt like the crazy white girl afraid of the fires.  I wasn't afraid of the fires, which I tried to explain, but I was afraid of what the fires mean for the people that I already love.

We left dinner quickly to head back to Pine Ridge, nervous that we wouldn't be able to make it back to the center.  Alicia rode with me, and as a fellow dog owner, we worried about our pups back at the center.  We listened to the radio for the drive back, listening to the DJ describe the various evacuation areas.  People were evacuated up to Pine Ridge.  What do we do if we're evacuated?  She and I talked through what we'd each pack in our "to-go" bags: important papers, phone charger, dog food, a few outfits, not knowing what an evacuation meant or where it would take us.  We heard on the radio that the Billy Mills Hall, which is across the street from the PRRC was being used as an evacuee shelter.  When we arrived back in Pine Ridge, we kissed our puppies and then headed across the street to see if we could be of any help.

We spent the next several hours working with the American Red Cross Disaster Relief team to help people find their way to cots, but more importantly, to cups of coffee.  You see, I've learned that Lakota culture means coffee...and a lot of it.  When we got to Billy Mills, there was no coffee.  I went back across the street to get our extra coffee pots, because when a grandma asks you for coffee, you get her a cup.  I found myself filling cups of coffee for people, answering the phone and even playing peek-a-boo with the little ones across the counter.  Three hours earlier, I had been melting into a puddle of snot and goo, trying to figure out how to help the people who I love.  Here I was, doing what I needed to do, where I needed to be.  I didn't even think about packing my bag or preparing for my evacuation.  Instead, I smiled and listened, poured and peeked, and prayed for strength.

We stayed until more of the Disaster Relief team arrived, then we headed to our own beds at nearly 1am.  We headed back over in the morning with an industrial-sized pot of coffee, ready to help make breakfast for the people who had spent the night in the shelter.  When we got there, we learned that the road to Oglala had opened back up and they were allowing people back into their homes.  Many of the evacuees had left, but the Red Cross sent us next door to help make breakfast for the firefighters.

I learned that there were over 150 firefighters working on the surrounding fires.  They came from several states, some even from Alaska!  I also learned that Pine Ridge firefighters are some of the mostly highly esteemed firefighters, since they know how to get the fires out fast.  Despite that, I learned that all of these forest fires were started in Nebraska by lightening strikes and that the Nebraska firefighters refused to allow Pine Ridge firefighters to come help them put it out.  I don't know how firefighting generally works, but as different community members explained this to me, I asked, "Why do you think that is?"  The common response?  "It's because they're racist bastards."  While not kind words, it seems to express a very real fact of life for the Indians of Pine Ridge.  Many have stories of being treated rudely in the towns nearby that are off the reservation.  It's heresay, I suppose, but something to consider.

After making over 340 breakfast burritos, which is what the firefighters eat on the line, and 340 bologna sandwiches for their lunches, Alicia and I headed back to the center to continue our "job" there.

Sunday morning, we headed to worship at Makasan Presbyterian Church.  Alicia has the privilege of singing a special song each week.  This particular Sunday, Alicia seemed a bit stressed and picked a song out of the choir songbook.  She began to sing, "It only takes a spark to get the fire going and soon all those around will warm up with its glowing.  That's how it is with God's love, once you've experienced it.  You spread the love to everyone, you want to pass it on."

I remember "Pass It On" fondly from my Lutherlyn days.  We'd sit in the Ampitheater on a Friday night, watching counselors and campers affirm each other and light candles to place in the wooden crosses, which floated in the ponds.  All of the sudden, the dark ampitheater would be filled with these little beeswax lights.  When Alicia began to sing, I cringed though.  "Too soon." was my first thought.  We've barely got these forest fires contain and you chose "It only takes a spark..." to begin?!

But then, as my theological brain began to churn and turn over this concept, what BETTER time than to sing this song?!  As we drove to church, we passed miles and miles of charred fields, some even burnt up to the roadside.  If I am to pass God's love with my spark, then I better do it in the way that forest fires spread!  I can certainly light one candle and see where it goes, but why NOT light a forest fire of God's love?  To date, I've heard that 273 miles of land has been engulfed in flames.  Could you imagine what it would mean to spread God's love that fast and that thoroughly?!  Yes, yes, I recognize that a forest fire isn't the most life-giving image, but let's spread God's love with the speed and force of a forest fire, whether it's in cups of coffee or hugs of reassurance.