The fifteen minutes I spent in the shelter with everyone else in Sagebrush was some of the most intense in my life. At first, there were screams and fear as everyone tried to find their loved ones, worried that it might be their last moments together. But then, as the roar of the tornado neared, silence fell over the crowd. They sat there, waiting. Waiting to die. Waiting to live. Nobody knew what was coming next.
And then the roar subsided, the tornado moved on, and everyone, including myself, breathed a collective sigh of relief.
But that was only the beginning.
“I talked to the fire chief,” Maggy said, a notebook in her hand with hastily scribbled notes. “The church is big enough to host twenty people, maximum. We only have six cots on hand, but I’ve called some of the surrounding communities and they’re willing to let us borrow theirs to max out our capacity.”
“Wonderful,” I nodded. “How many people need our help?” I asked, afraid of the answer.
“There were at least forty homes hit by the tornado,” she replied, shaking her head as she scanned the page. “That’s sixty-two people, including children, who need some place to go.”
“Let’s do some community outreach. Anyone with a spare room that’s willing to shelter their neighbors needs to know we need help.” I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to come up with every possibility to help these people that I hadn’t even gotten the chance to introduce myself to yet. “Let’s reach out to other churches nearby as well that could help. We’ll need food brought in as well and supplies if we can get them. Maybe there’s some charity shops in Amarillo or people willing to donate?” I glanced over at Maggy, who was scribbling furiously. “I’m sorry to put all this on you.”
“It’s alright, that’s what I’m here for,” she nodded, giving me a tired but genuine smile. “You just became the new pastor last week.”
“I haven’t even unpacked all my bags yet,” I sighed, shaking my head. “So much for a nice, quiet job, huh?”
“God works in mysterious ways,” she replied. “I’ll make those calls and see what we can do. Why don’t you go down to Dolly’s and see if she can help us with food, alright?”
“Right.” I’d met Dolly a couple of times already, and it was easy to see she was the backbone of Sagebrush and a force to be reckoned with. “I’m sure she’d be happy to help.”
“And don’t forget you have the Turner wedding tomorrow morning,” Maggy called as she headed for the door. “It’ll be a good way to show everyone that things are still normal, that we’re going to get through this.”
“I’ll iron my shirts tonight,” I said, giving her a smile. “I picked out a gift for them already, too. Thank God for overnight shipping.”
“Absolutely.” She paused at the door, glancing back at me. “Don’t worry, Pastor Mike. We’re gonna figure this out. And there’s no funerals to plan, so that’s a blessing in and of itself.”
“True enough.” I pulled on a light jacket, stepping out of the church office as Maggy headed for her desk and one of the only working phones left in Sagebrush. “Let’s help these good people get back to normal.”
Outside, the town was in shambles. Everywhere I looked there was shingles, siding, tumbleweeds, and fallen trees. The roads were a mess of debris and cars turned every which way. Firefighters and police from the next town over were trying to get things cleaned up so that Sagebrush’s meager traffic could flow again. I saw Marcus, our sheriff, with a chainsaw helping clear a particularly large cottonwood that had fallen across Main Street. And there, by his side, was Xavier, doing everything he could to help, even though this wasn’t his town.
Good people. That’s what Sagebrush had. And despite the fact that I’d only been here a short time, I’d seen that fact played out over and over again. This was a quiet, small town with neighborly people. I couldn’t have asked for a better community to work for. But I never expected it to be destroyed the moment I stepped foot in it.
Sometimes, it felt like the past was following me wherever I went.
I shook my head and started walking toward Dolly’s Diner, trying to push away memories of another town, another disaster. The weight of responsibility settled on my shoulders like an old, familiar coat, uncomfortable but perfectly tailored to me.
As I navigated the debris-strewn street, locals nodded at me with tired smiles. Most didn’t know me well yet, but a pastor in times of crisis becomes an instant fixture. I needed to make them confident that I knew exactly what I was doing, even if I wasn’t convinced of it myself.
At the diner, I saw that Dolly’s neon sign was gone completely, leaving only twisted metal brackets where it once hung. The building itself seemed mostly intact. It was a small miracle, given what had happened to other structures nearby.
When I pushed open the door, the bell jingled cheerfully, completely at odds with the somber mood. Inside, Dolly was barking orders to her staff like a general commanding troops. There were no lights since most of the power lines were on the ground, but the place was packed, regardless. There were firefighters, police officers, and volunteers, all wolfing down plates of food that Dolly had whipped up in the dark thanks to her diner being on natural gas.
“Pastor Mike!” Dolly called when she spotted me. Her hair was frazzled, and there was flour on her cheek, but her eyes were bright with determination. “Come on in! You need something to eat, sugar?”
“I’m actually here to see what we can do to help each other,” I replied, making my way to the counter. “The church is being set up as a shelter, but we need to feed people.”
Dolly wiped her hands on her apron. “Already on it, honey. I’ve got my gas stoves running full tilt. Power’s out everywhere, but I’ve been cooking since the tornado passed.” She gestured to the packed diner. “Been feeding these folks for free. Figure they deserve it, working like they are.”
“That’s incredibly generous of you, Dolly.”
“Ain’t nothing. This is what neighbors do.” She poured me a cup of coffee without asking if I wanted one. “Now, how many people you expecting at the church?”
I explained our situation, watching her face grow more determined with every word.
“I can handle feeding them,” she said firmly. “Got plenty of supplies in my freezer that’ll go bad without power, anyway. Might as well use it to feed folks who need it. And I’ll reach out toBeau and some of my other suppliers. I’m sure they’d be happy to donate to the cause.”
“Thank you,” I said, feeling a wave of gratitude. “That’s one worry off my plate.”
