When longtime Ocean Springs, Mississippi resident Mike Croft heard that Hurricane Katrina was headed straight for the gulf coast he stayed home, not because he wanted to, but because he had no choice.

 

Mike, who is 49 and recovering from hip replacement surgery, lived in a small house on Vancleave Avenue. When news reports announced that a category two hurricane – Hurricane Katrina – was headed for the coast, Mike found himself without a way to leave town, since he only has a bicycle on which he depends for transportation.

 

A few months ago, Mike was climbing a ladder while working at an auto parts store. He lost his footing while upon the ladder and landed wrong. During the fall, he sustained a deep cut on his thumb, an injury which, at the time, seemed to be the worse of the two injuries. Days later, however, it was his hip that left him in severe pain. After seeing several doctors, Mike finally found a doctor who would eventually replace his hip joint.

 

When Katrina hit, Mike was in recovery, hoping to wait out the storm. He had survived Hurricane Camille (a category five storm that hit the gulf coast in 1969), and so that was seemingly the benchmark: if you survived Camille, you could survive anything. So Mike planned to stay home, hoping to ride out the storm. Then it hit.

 

Mike says the only thing he really remembers was the wall of water and pecans flying at his home at 150 miles per hour from a nearby pecan tree. The whizzing pecans, still in their green shells, cracked and severed glass and siding on his house. Then trees surrounding Mike’s home fell on the frame of the home, crushing the small structure under their weight.  Including water damage, Mike lost everything. He now lives in a small tent pitched at the edge of the church-turned-shelter’s property line. Even though he sleeps in the small, humid dwelling, he spends most of his time at a picnic table just outside the shelter, talking to others in his same situation. “I lost everything. I lost the whole shooting match,” he says with a quick smile.

 

The shelter is really a large, beautiful church that contains many large rooms in which to house people and distribute goods to cars out back. Its doors remain open 24 hours a day, seven days a week to all who need a place to stay, a hot meal, or medical care. Just inside the shelter’s doors are Red Cross workers and volunteers, ready to help families fill out the necessary paperwork to get help from FEMA. Outside, there are several tents pitched around on grassy places surrounding the church. Of all the tents, Mike’s is the smallest.

 

Mike describes himself as a “lapsed Catholic.” For most of his adult life, Mike relied only on himself. After a couple of failed marriages, his faith in others also became stunted. He increasingly put his faith in knowledge and reason; he kept up with current events with zeal, and traveled around the world.

 

When Mike arrived at the shelter a few weeks ago, he was in awe of what he saw at the shelter: all faiths, all colors, all ages, all from different economic backgrounds and situations coming together for a common goal: to help hurricane victims return to normal as soon as possible. 

 

In the busy lobby of the shelter, Red Cross workers and volunteers, along with doctors and nurses, all make up the atmosphere as soon as one walks in the front door. With individuals walking fast in all different directions, it sort of reminds you of an airport terminal. Scores of families, many with children, come into the center to sign up with FEMA or to get tetanus shots or just to see a doctor at the shelter’s clinic. Many are homeless and staying at the center’s “blue room” where families sleep and watch television. Mike, who occasionally walks inside the shelter to get a cup of coffee or to use the restroom, sees the help being given firsthand. It is a sight that amazes him. “I am just in awe of the incredible individuals who are giving their time to this shelter,” said Mike. “It restores my faith in people to see genuinely good and faithful people helping us. Many have traveled from all around the United States and even the world to come and help us. And I just think that’s neat.”

 

A week ago, Mike went to his first church service in years. He attended the morning service at the place where the shelter is housed. During the service, beds where Red Cross and CAP workers had been sleeping were unoccupied but neatly made. The beds, evidence of the work that had been going on in the holy place, were a reminder to Mike of why he was there in the first place. “This whole thing is about people doing the Lord’s work,” says Mike. “It’s about helping your neighbor – your brother – and [Christian Appalachian Project] is a part of that.”