In August 2020 the state of California began housing evacuees from the Santa Cruz fires at the Asilomar Conference Grounds in Pacific Grove.
The pandemic brought about changes to every segment of life, and disaster relief was no exception. Suddenly, congregate shelters — to house dozens of people under one roof — were no longer an option. Asilomar was available because conferences and large group meetings had been canceled. It was a good solution to a difficult problem, but it created a new challenge for California Southern Baptist Convention Disaster Relief.
Prior to the pandemic, our chaplains had often been called on to provide spiritual and emotional care to people displaced during disasters and housed in congregate shelters. At Asilomar, clients were housed in separate rooms and not allowed to gather indoors. Even the meals DR provided were delivered directly to clients’ rooms; no personal contact was allowed. Opportunities to connect with those we were serving, and even with state employees and other relief organizations, were few.
On day two of this deployment, I went to check in with the shelter manager. She told me I was needed in the parking lot. There was a disturbance, and she wanted me to speak with the woman causing the problem. I was new to chaplaincy, and handling parking lot disturbances was not something I had prepared for. Feeling inadequate and not knowing what I would do or say, I headed out.
No place to go
The woman I met had been displaced from her home, had little money, no place to go and no idea what she would find when she was allowed to return to her property. She did have her dogs and her car. Because pets were not allowed inside the shelter, she was sleeping in the car with the dogs. She was upset, scared, a bit disoriented and quite loud in her complaints. Her erratic behavior was causing problems among others camping in the parking lot.
I introduced myself, and she agreed to sit and talk with me. We walked away from the others, found a bench and soaked up the sunshine for a few minutes.
She began to tell me her story, how she ended up in Santa Cruz, how she lived and what her dogs meant to her.
I realized what she needed at that moment was simply to talk.
She needed to untangle her scattered thoughts and know someone was listening and someone cared. There was nothing I could do to fix any of her problems — we both knew that.
Because I was a chaplain she talked a bit about her experience with faith and her beliefs about God. We had a sweet time of prayer and shed a few tears.
I walked her back to the parking lot and told her I would check on her tomorrow. I returned to the shelter and told the manager I thought she would be okay for the day. She was.
I looked for her the next day, but she and her dogs had moved on. I continued to pray for her and hoped they were well and that she was on her way to recovering from the crisis.
Simply listening
It was my first experience in chaplaincy. I was unsure of myself and more than a little intimidated.
The circumstances were certainly unique, but every chaplaincy contact is unique.
Each contact is as unique as the person in crisis. I may have helped that woman just a little on that day. Simply by listening to her, I was able to provide emotional and spiritual care she needed right at that moment.
She helped me too. She made me a better chaplain by reminding me of the significance of time, attention and presence.
I am grateful to her for that.
EDITOR’S NOTE — This story was written by Jenice Moore and originally published by California Southern Baptist Convention.
