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A Pastor's Journey to Heal Lives
Keyoka Norwood hugs her father, Lawrence Jones, goodbye before leaving.
(Photos By Nancy Trejos -- The Washington Post)
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"We Have Jobs."
"We Have Homes."
"We Have a Nice Place to Stay for Free!" the flier read.
Once they got there, they stood in the middle of the field, surrounded by row after row of cots. They watched as people read the paper, listened to the radio and ate Twinkies and other snacks. Leery of invading people's space, they waited hopefully to be approached. No one came up to them.
Four people came to the 6 p.m. meeting, including a Vietnamese couple unsure they wanted to go to Maryland. What they did want was $1,000 to repair their car. Then they could go back to New Orleans, they told Finch, to search for their 18-year-old son.
Finch and Dunckel asked the couple to leave the room while they talked. Even if it were a scam, Finch said, the couple was obviously in need and would use the money to survive.
He called Cao Dang back into the room and handed him $1,000. "Use this to find your son," he said. Dang's wife, Loan Pham, hugged Finch, tears welling in her eyes.
Then it was back to the Astrodome. The sun was setting, and a couple of the evacuees reeked of alcohol. Finch watched Dunckel talk to a crowd. "He's begging them," Finch said. "I don't really want to beg them."
They left when it got dark, not knowing for sure if anyone would show up in the morning.
It was Pat Wiele, the volunteer from California, who delivered Finch's reason for coming to Houston. That afternoon, she'd reached the cell phone of Kimberly Norwood, 44, a chef and lifelong New Orleans resident.
Norwood was staying at a hotel with her sister, brother, children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews and aunt. She handed the phone to her sister, Susan Norwood, 47, a records keeper for the U.S. Department of Agriculture.
They fled New Orleans before Katrina hit, driving to Houston with a few items of clothing and the assumption that they would be back in a week. They didn't need time to mull over Finch's offer: Their homes were flooded, their possessions destroyed, their jobs in limbo.
"It was a chance for my whole family to stay together and to start over together," said Susan Norwood, a mother of three and grandmother.
Still, they shed tears as they boarded the bus, and the trip started with a prayer. "It might not be the magical number 50," Finch said of his passengers. "It's still a good thing. They need us, and we're going to take care of them."
