Muscadine Lines: A Southern Journal

Nashville Tornado
Disaster Relief Memoir

Ming Lien


Buckled and settled into the Salvation Army disaster relief van, I slipped off my clogs and rested my achy feet on top of the stacks of flattened cardboard boxes. They had replaced the cartons of food we loaded that morning. To the soft murmur of the conversation behind me and the gentle rock of the van, I began to watch the documentary recorded in my mind. This was Tuesday, April 11, 2006, four days after the tornado gutted Gallatin, Tennessee. I, with seven other Hope Force International reservists, followed the trail of service and love blazed by previous volunteers.

We began the day at the Madison Salvation Army Church during which we met our team leaders and members, unloaded and loaded the van with the necessary goods, and prayed for Jesus' love to shine through us. Before this day, I didn't realize how much Salvation Army's philosophy paralleled Jesus' ministry. He touched lives through meeting practical needs. Here, we will meet their practical needs for food and lend a listening ear to their stories. Upon the conclusion of our prayer, we loaded into the van and headed toward Gallatin.

A noticeable silence settled upon us as we entered the area. Cars that once shone with pride now crushed and crumbled from debris. Buildings that glistened with windows now stood naked against the sun. Century-old trees snapped and uprooted like dried-up twigs. Aside from the flashing sign at the nearby McDonald, "We are Open," the area looked like a ghost town peppered with demolished cars and broken glass. Groaning with pain, a twisted aluminum siding from the Nissan dealership flapped in the wind. A helicopter hovered above taking an aerial view of the scene.

Passing the business district around Volunteer State Community College, we entered the residential subdivisions. There, police officers blocked the entrance to check valid ID's. The place buzzed with life as workers repaired power lines, cleared downed trees, and cleaned up debris. At that time, we further divided into three different groups. One group stayed with the stationary canteen. The remaining two traveled with the mobile canteens. I joined one of the mobile groups. Like popping popcorns, the metal walls of the canteen rattled as we traveled to our final destination.

Once arrived, we began to set-up shop. We opened the canteen, moved the coolers and chips outside, and reorganized the inside for more working room. While David and Anne, fellow Hope Force reservists, spread the word of hot lunch to the neighborhood, I helped Ron, our leader, cook. My excellent skills and wealth of knowledge warranted several quizzical looks and finally the comment from Ron, "You don't cook much, do you?" Gosh, it was obvious wasn't it? I didn't even know how to make coffee or how big or small to cut the French bread. We Asian folks never slice bread for meals, nor do I, Miss Bland, ever drink coffee. Preparing Western food for the mass is an educational experience for me, indeed.

Shortly after, people began to come. Tired eyes shaded by baseball caps, they all smiled with appreciation as we handed them hot chili with bread (that I sliced!). They had already spent days in the sun cutting and hauling broken branches and other debris. One man came from a northern state. He had traveled south hoping to hunt raccoons. Upon hearing about the tornado, he came to help instead. Another man lived in one of the corner lots. The tornado skipped his home but took all his immediate neighbors' houses. "We have pieces of everyone else's house in our yard," his wife commented.

After everyone who came had their fill of food, I took a walk with Anne around the neighborhood per Ron's suggestion. The sights that met my eyes made me cringe. One house stood exposing its kitchen and compartments to the public. Another lost its roof, allowing the sunlight into the basement. Many less fortunate had only concrete foundations to mark the original place as piles of appliances littered the yard. One house even lost parts of its foundation. Twisted metal wrapped around branches like a nylon ribbon. A beaten spoon curled in half. A child's shoe was lost among broken glass. Close by, a teddy bear lay torn from its owner. Insulation hung from branches and wire fences like a tattered shoji. Broken pieces of board penetrated trucks and yards like toothpicks into cake.

The comment that I repeatedly heard was, "You never think it'll happen to you." Similar to my car accident, tragedy is just something you hear about, not face in real life until it happens. "We lost everything, but everyone's okay," one woman stated as she walked us through what was left of her house. With moistened eyes and pained voice, she began to share her story.

Just minutes before the tornado struck her neighborhood, her husband returned home from work and insisted on going out for food.

"There's a tornado warning! We can't go out!"

"But I'm hungry! We'll be okay. It's just a warning."

Reluctantly, the wife joined her husband for an early dinner. As they enjoyed their meal less than fifteen minutes away, the tornado crashed down every door and window and lifted the roof off their house. It destroyed and robbed them of virtually everything, even their fiberglass swimming pool. It lay upside down more than one hundred feet away. All their cars sat broken and deformed. Shattered antique vases, figurines, and lamps littered the rooms. The wife is an antique dealer. Their dog survived the storm by hiding under the bed. For days, he still cried and ran from unseen storms.

While the destruction left emptiness and pain, the love poured forth by various organizations, neighbors, and friends brings me much joy and thanksgiving. Besides Hope Force International and Salvation Army, the Red Cross, TEMA (Tennessee Emergency Management Association), AmSouth, Cracker Barrel, the Boy Scouts and many others all offered practical needs to those struck by the tornado. Not only did the folks of these organizations come to bless the neighborhoods, they've blessed me, too, with their generosity. Being a blessing is to be blessed. What is more gratifying than to see Jesus' authentic love being spread?

"Bless you. You have been used by God today to spread His Kingdom. You've touched lives," thanked Major Ronnie Raymer of the Salvation Army as we bade our good-bye. To this day, I still wonder, who was blessed more, the folks we saw or ourselves?

***

Ming Lien moved to Nashville, Tennessee, with her family from Taiwan a little over twenty-five years ago. She writes reflections or "memoirs" of events through which God teaches something to her. Her church partnered with Hope Force International, and she began her training as a reservist with them a few months ago.

© Ming Lien

Muscadine Lines: A Southern Journal ISSN 1554-8449, Copyright © 2004-2012