From Hurricane To Hope

By Jennifer Webb

Lance Hendrix paced his floor, August 30th, 2005, watching the devastation on his television. He knew that Hurricane Katrina was ravaging New Orleans, but this really hit home. They were using the Louisiana State University campus in Baton Rouge to aid those affected by the hurricane. That was close — seven minutes away close.

“You have to do something to help! God’s done so much for you” kept ringing in Lance’s head. But there were a million questions and “what ifs.”

The hurricane had been bad, but Louisiana residents were no strangers to riding them out. This time, the levee broke and flood waters rushed into New Orleans. The news said 80% of the city was flooded. LSU became a triage center, and the campus was being overrun with refugees.

They soon began asking local churches – including his church’s campus ministry facility, to take people in and shelter them. Within a couple of hours, the student center overflowed its capacity, so church members were called for help in taking flood victims into their homes.

It was a big ask. ”I want to help, but bring displaced strangers into my home?” Lance considered. He had seen refugees on TV. In his mind, they were usually the poor and downtrodden. But what if people they housed were criminals? What if they had a drug problem? It could be dangerous to bring a total stranger into their home with his wife and kids. Still, the primary thought echoed in his mind, “You have to do something to help.”

For “safety’s sake,” Lance sent his wife and their two children to stay the night at his mother-in-law’s house and got in his car. “This doesn’t make sense, Lord,” he silently argued as he drove to the LSU campus to pick up total strangers to bring home.

He entered a long line of cars and waited. The more he saw, the more he understood why they had relocated the upcoming LSU home football game against Arizona State to Tempe. Things would have to be extremely dire to move a home game that brings in millions of dollars into the Baton Rouge economy. Lance and his brother, Blake Hendrix, who lived in Searcy, AR, had tickets to that game.

When it was his turn in the line, three adult family members got into his car, and Lance took them to his house. They were exhausted, but otherwise looked fairly normal. He thought, “What is ‘normal’ anyway?” Everyone looks exactly the same – caked in dried mud, clothes sweat-stained, and faces haggard. They changed his previous idea about what a refugee “should look like.” They introduced themselves as Bobby, Tony, and Diane.

As they ate supper, he learned that they had fled their half-million-dollar home. The flood waters came unbelievably quickly. Bobby pulled out a BlackBerry (the most advanced tech at that time) and explained that he was a lawyer. They had gone to a hotel for the night, but when Bobby stepped out into the hotel hallway and saw a man walking down the hall with what appeared to be a machine gun, they realized that things had gotten worse than they feared.

He tried to call the hotel front desk, but no one answered. He dialed 911, no answer there either. New Orleans was under Martial Law, but there weren’t enough people to protect his family. It was up to him.

They could either flee or spend the night in the hotel with the door locked. They chose to flee and catch a bus to Baton Rouge since they heard the LSU campus was taking in refugees. They slipped out the back and hiked through knee-deep water to the bus stop. It was dark.

They saw snakes in the water and displaced fire ants rolled through the water in living balls. Fortunately, the family managed to avoid being bitten by either. They had backpacks, flip phones, the BlackBerry, and a couple of Ziploc bags with personal items in them. That was it. It was all they were able to grab from their home with only minutes’ notice. They made it to the bus station, and from there to the LSU campus. They were on their way to stay with family in Louisville, KY.

After sharing the meal and some stories with their newfound host, Bobby, Tony and Diane headed to bed, understandably exhausted.

When Lance awoke the next morning, to his surprise, they were already gone. Their beds were made, and on the kitchen table was a note:

“Sept 1, 2005

Dear Lance, Becky, Peyton, and Marylee, Your graciousness, warmth and charm have set the standard that we will aspire to and hope to emulate. We will pass

on to others your sharing and care, and they may never know it started with you, and then they may pass it out to others. As terrifying as this experience has been, I wouldn’t give up the experience to have met people who on a moment’s notice give you their home! One never knows that what seems like bad news is really good news. And Lance, thank you for the special blessing last night. You will hear from us soon. We also never thought it could be so inspiring after going through Hurricane Hugo in 1989. I knew I would learn and grow from this experience, but I never expected to experience so much love, selflessness, and inspiration from one family. With great appreciation, Bobby, Tony, and Diane

P.S. We never knew being a refugee could be such a positive experience. Becky, Peyton, and Marylee - we can’t wait to meet you in person.”

Inspired by his brother’s experience, and the scripture “The King will reply, Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (Matt 25:40) Blake Hendrix was moved to action in Arkansas, wanting to help as well.

Blake had been a Louisiana resident for 17 years before moving to Searcy in 2001 to start his own State Farm Insurance Agency. He learned that Camp Wyldewood had opened up their cabins for Louisiana residents fleeing the massive destruction. 1.2 million Gulf Coast residents had been under evacuation orders - voluntary and mandatory. He also received phone calls from other agents in Louisiana asking him for help for their clients who had fled to White County.

Three families that had fled were staying in a hotel in Beebe, AR. After several days living in a small cramped hotel room, the dads were going a little stir crazy and called Blake to help. Not only did he deliver their claim checks, he also took them to Searcy Country Club for a day of golf.

“They just wanted to get out and do something ‘normal.’ I’ve never seen people so grateful to be taken for a round of golf in my life. It drove home the fact that many of the refugees were just like me.”

– Blake Hendrix, Founding Member of the Wyldewood Golf Tournament

The Hurricane had driven out over two hundred thousand people without prejudice. That round of golf got him thinking, “What can we do to help?” Blake had organized a golf tournament for Searcy’s Rotary Club for a few years and decided that a fundraiser was something that he knew how to run. Why not whip up a golf tournament and give the proceeds to the refugees for clothing, food, or whatever else they needed?

He talked to Jim House, the owner of River Oaks Golf course, who agreed to let them use the course for a reduced rate. He recruited several ladies who he knew were influential in the Searcy community. Christine Faith, Betina Ramsey, Sherri Adcock, Michelle Davis, and Blake went to work, calling businesses,

explaining what they were doing, and asking for teams and donations. Everyone they called gave something. Businesses and people gave $100 here and $200 there. Three weeks later, by the time of the tournament, they had raised over $23,000!

Twenty years later, Blake reflects on how the people of Searcy came together to support people they didn’t know who needed help.

“Looking back on that time, I really enjoyed getting to know and working with Christine,

Betina, Sherri, and Michelle and the relationships we formed over those couple of weeks putting the tournament together. It was my first experience watching this community rally quickly to support those in need. It certainly wasn’t the first or last time,

and I think that’s what makes Searcy such a special place.”

The Wyldewood Golf Tournament was such a success, it went on to become an annual event. Now in its 20th year, it is one of the largest golf tournaments in White County. After Katrina, nearly half of the residents of New Orleans decided not to move back but relocated elsewhere. Eighty percent of the city was flooded, displacing the rich, the poor, and the middle class alike. They suddenly had nowhere to go, and their homes were gone or badly damaged. Katrina caused approximately $125 billion in damages and 1,833 fatalities, according to Wikipedia.

But even the worst storms run out of rain . . . and hope, like the sun, will always shine again!

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