Washington pastor Tom Goodell earns praise for leadership in tornado recovery

Source: Journal Star, Peoria, Ill.迷你倉將軍澳Dec. 24--WASHINGTON -- It has been five weeks since a tornado leveled neighborhoods in Washington, five weeks since Crossroads United Methodist Church was transformed into a shelter, and five weeks since Pastor Tom Goodell was thrust into a leadership role for relief efforts.To Goodell and all his coworkers at the church, time hasn't been a sure thing since the Nov. 17 tornado."I don't know if it's been two years or two minutes since it hit," Goodell said. "I think time both speeds up and slows down in any crisis situation. The routine of our day, our daily tasks, really define our days. All of a sudden, it's thrown out with the wind."Goodell is a master of deflecting praise to others. He talks of co-workers forgetting to eat during the hectic days they were trying to aid the hundreds of people who flocked to their church for shelter. He tells of God's calming influence after he hit a wall on the Wednesday after the tornado. He stormed into his office, shut the door, fell to his knees and found strength in prayer.He's much more comfortable crediting God or his co-workers before himself, but his co-workers won't stand for it."He's been our rock," said church receptionist Brenda Thornburg. "He's gotten us so many things, it's impossible to list."Since the tornado, all routines, except a morning staff meeting that Goodell leads, ended as the church staff has tried to help their city."The routines that give our days order really affect how we mark time, and I think most everyone tries to get back into the mode as quickly as possible," Goodell said. "I don't know how therapeutic that is, to quickly go back to what normal is. It's OK to stay, to soak in that crazy. It's normal."The EF-4 tornado roared past his church in eyesight of the pastor and his entire congregation shortly before the 11 a.m. service.Parishioners hurried into the church's storm shelters. "I was going back and forth between the two shelters to see if everyone was in," Goodell said. He did this even as the trainlike whistle of the tornado was howling through the church.When the congregation was let out of the shelters, Goodell saw that a neighboring house had been leveled by the tornado. Soon, people were driving to the church with all of their car windows blown out looking for medical help and shelter.More than 1,000 homes had been destroyed in Washington."From helping keep the building under control, to helping disperse aid, to caring for victims and staff, Tom was in charge of everything," said Amber Johnsen, church accounting assistant. "He's a doer, not a bystander. He was involved with everything."- Come Monday morning, Goodell was dealing with a multitude of organizations setting up shop, along with the countless survivors eating, sleeping and grieving in his church. The American Red Cross, Verizon Wireless, State Farm Insurance and the Secretary of State's Office got to the church as soon as possible to help the hundreds of people that had flocked there -- only the Secretary of State called in advance to ask if they should come to the church. The rest already knew Crossroads was the go-to place.Countless television crews and reporters, from Al-Jazeera to Telemundo, descended on the church wanting to speak with Goodell and those seeking shelter. He had to shield tornado survivors from cameras while helping oversee the church rooms being converted into food pantries.The number of people under the roof had grown substantially since the tornado. People that previously had no affiliation with the church were now seeking shelter, meeting family and comforting coworkers in his church.Within an hour of the tornado, the church had multiple generators that lit up the church and its parking lot."We had our parking lot lights; no other part of the city had light," Goodell said. As night came and darkness engulfed the powerless town, resi迷你倉尖沙咀ents could see the darkness end at the northern edge of town where the church sat."We sent people out to deliver water to people still at their homes, still sifting through rubble," the pastor said. "Someone asked what gave them hope; they pointed to the parking lot lights. That light gave them hope."The following Sunday, after six days of sifting and grieving, the community was looking to the pastor for hope. It was his first sermon since the storm."If you read about novelists, Updike, Vonnegut, King, they all say the ideas just come," Goodell said. "It's remarkable, I usually spend 12 to 18 hours writing a sermon. I spent an hour on that one."Goodell knew how easy it was for people to focus on the tornado -- the downdrafts and updrafts coming together with such destructive side effects -- so he wanted to shine a light on the good."He did not focus on the negative. What he said, downdraft of grace, updraft of love, that was the perfect moment for me," Johnsen said. "He was able to step away and see the good.""That downdraft of God's grace that we felt so profoundly," Goodell preached that Sunday. "That updraft of love that's lifted us up. That's the storm I want to talk about, and that storm is never leaving Washington ever again."Goodell preached of wedding rings and photos found in rubble as well as in towns miles away. He told of a family cat being found buried in the basement, perfectly healthy, days later. He detailed as much good as he could.- Seeing the good could be difficult. At Goodell's church, there were 74 families that lost their homes. To some, it got ever darker. In the wake of the storm, some said God himself sent the tornado as punishment."That's ridiculous. If you say God sent those tornadoes, that's bringing up a lot of theological issues I don't believe in," Goodell said. "The tornado didn't know we had built houses here. It's not divine punishment; it's not the hand of God."The weeks began to roll by, and the city began to clean up. Some help rolled on out of town. Gone were the days of sheltering hundreds of people, handing out more than 30,000 meals and giving away more than 57,000 bottles of water. Gone were the days of Goodell being pulled in a thousand directions at once.Goodell and the church now focus on the town's mental health. "All of the city's pastors are worried about January and February. Winter's coming. We're going to get snow, and it's going to be dark. We're going to have to live with the city looking like this for a while."His church now has mental health officials set up in offices for those needing help. The church also has a calling list of victims; they call each number once a week to check on them."We smile about people who come here from trivial excuses just to come here, just to be around people. Let's give people excuses," Goodell said. The church calendar has a planned event nearly every day to welcome people in."All the churches and schools are doing it," Goodell said.With the new phase, Goodell is able to help people, even though they may not be under his roof anymore. He's able to smile more as he sees those that were once seeking shelter in his church are now rebuilding. He's happy to see people being able to move on."It was always about caring for the people, it was always about that for him," Johnsen said. "All those people, those hundreds of people that came to be healed in his church, he loves all those people."The mission of bringing hope to the community continues for Goodell and the church, but the building itself is now hushed more often than not. "I'm not used to it being so quiet," Goodell said. "I miss all the people."_____Zach Berg can be reached at zberg@pjstar.com or 686-3257. Follow him on Twitter @ZacharyBerg.Copyright: ___ (c)2013 Journal Star (Peoria, Ill.) Visit the Journal Star (Peoria, Ill.) at .PJStar.com Distributed by MCT Information Services倉