It was early June when the world for many people in the northern Saskatchewan stopped and changed. Over 10,000 people were told to evacuate from their forest fires threatened communities and homes. Some had time for more packing, some escaped with not much more than fear and hope in their hearts. Some had to leave behind their pets, often considered members of the family. They were told to go to many places, Regina, Saskatoon, North Battleford. Many came to Kindersley.
They needed help in many forms and the community responded. Because that is what a community, in a rural context, does when their brothers and sisters, their neighbours need help. Neighbours, in a moral and not a geographical sense. There is also that unspoken, matter-of-fact attitude of “somebody needs help, so I help.” Plain and simple.
So, when the news got out that there are evacuees in town, the community rose to the occasion. Government agencies coordinated accommodation in hotels. Hotels and various businesses organised meals. Local cinema and swimming pool opened its doors too allow the people maybe a moment of break, of distraction from fear, from worry, from the unknown.
One of the most impressive moments, to me, was an organised, community-wide clothing collection. I use the word “impressive” intentionally, because organisers were courageous enough to state clearly what is needed and what is not needed. In a world where the saying “beggars cannot be choosers” seems to be doing just fine, it took courage to tell the community their cast-offs are not as needed as their intentional generosity. And the community responded, generously, and many with gratitude for guidance. It was not about us feeling good about ourselves through what we did, it was about us trying to tell “strangers in our midst” that they matter, that their lives will go on, and that they are not alone.
On the part of St. Paul’s United Church. Well, I went to the info-hub for the refugees, brought two boxes of doughnuts for the social workers and, cribbing an amended line from a TV show, I asked: “How can we help?”. We ended up coming to one of the hotels and offering a time of prayer, reflection and story telling or silence. It was a conscious decision to “go and offer” as opposed to relatively customary “we invite you to service in our building.” It ended up being a holy time.
When the evacuees were allowed to return to their homes we prayed for them, for their loved ones, for their pets, for their homes and for their land. Then I wondered if we could have done things different. The initial second-guessing told me that maybe we could have been more proactive, more inventive … just … more. Then, I realised we did just fine with asking how we can help, asking what is needed, taking a back seat to all the action while ensuring it was known that we are around, that we are available to help, to listen, to be present.
I guess that’s what ministry in a rural context, or a rural ministry, is all about. It is about being present.
The Rev. Piotr Strzelecki VDM
Minister at St. Paul’s United Church
Convenor of the Living Skies Regional Council