MATT GLOVER writes about the day he spent working as a chaplain in the aftermath of Victoria’s fires…
Like everyone, I’ve known some families deeply affected by the fires. Words can’t describe the pain.
I spent the day at Whittlesea yesterday as a chaplain offering pastoral care to those returning from the mountain having seen their devastated homes and properties for the first time. Much of my time I spent with families with young children.
“I spoke to little Jess who was five. She introduced herself, ‘My name’s Jess and my home burnt down’. She told me about how hot it was and how scared they were.”
I spoke to little Jess who was five. She introduced herself, “My name’s Jess and my home burnt down”. She told me about how hot it was and how scared they were. Her little brother Jake told me the bricks on his house were glowing orange. They were lucky – both they and their parents got out alive.
I met Paul outside the relief centre, dazed and confused. He could barely see, was having trouble breathing, was walking with a limp and had some obvious pain in his back. He had been up at Kinglake since Saturday and this was the first time he had come down to the relief centre. A neighbour had forced him into a car and brought him down to get help. He had lost everything he owned and many friends. He told of bodies over the roads and footpaths as well as dead animals everywhere. “I can’t describe it” was all he could say. I got him to the first aid centre, where the nurses called an ambulance for him. He wouldn’t go to hospital though. He was going back up the mountain. There was still too much to do.
I met another guy who seemed to be in good spirits. He was joking with me and asked if I had my cheque book with me. I told him I was a minister and didn’t have any money! He told me he helped erect a cross on one of the churches in my denomination and I joked with him that he had put it on upside down. We shared a few laughs. Then he grabbed my arm tightly and looked into my eyes. He didn’t say a word, but I could see the horror of what he had been through in his face.
A mum and dad with two kids the same age as mine (four and six-years-old) came in to the relief centre. They were fine and lived out of the fire zone. But they came looking for friends who they hadn’t heard from. They found their school teacher and there were many hugs and tears on both sides. Then the mum asked me, “My son’s best friend died in the fire. How do I tell him?”
I came across an older man who was standing on the side of the road sobbing. He was almost the stereotypical Aussie bushman. He had been protecting his home from the fire when we saw two little girls running down the street terrified. He grabbed them and put them in his home and continued to do what he could to protect the house. But the fire was too much and it soon took hold. He desperately tried to find the girls but the heat and spoke drove him back and the girls died as the house burnt around them. Trembling, he repeated over and over again, “I murdered those little girls. I murdered those little girls…”
I’ve seen some awful things in my journey, but nothing compares to this. The stories just kept coming. From the man who saw his neighbour running down the street burning alive, to the bloke who had lost his wife and kids, to the reporters that couldn’t cope with the emotion of it all. Every so often I would retreat to a quite space and call my wife to tell her I love her and to tell my boys I would be home soon.
“I’ve seen some awful things in my journey, but nothing compares to this. The stories just kept coming.”
I’ve also seen some amazing examples of the strength of human spirit and the power of community in my time, but again, nothing like this. The number of people volunteering their time and resources, walking together with the victims and sharing in their grief, was simply staggering. The politicians were there. As were the celebrities and sports stars. So were the counsellors and volunteers to help sort through the mountains of donations. But there were no titles on this day. We were all human beings united by a tragedy, equal in the face of suffering and walking the path of recovery together.
And I remain in awe of the work of the CFA and SES volunteers who are STILL up there fighting the beast, even though they’ve lost everything themselves.
I’ll be back there in the coming days to do what I can, little as it may be. But I do want to bring you a message from a lady who managed to survive the fire with her home intact. She had been up in Kinglake since Saturday as well, and needed to come down to get some food and supplies from the relief centre. when I saw her, she was weeping. She said to me, “I’ve been up there all these days and hadn’t seen or heard from anybody. I didn’t think anybody cared. I didn’t know the roads had been blocked and you couldn’t get up to us. Now I’m here I can see that everybody cares so deeply. I don’t know what to say. Please pass on my thanks if you can.”
That’s why I’m posting this.
To say thank you for caring and praying and giving and loving.
On behalf of those that haven’t yet got the voice to say it for themselves.
Matt is the associate pastor at Mitcham Baptist Church in Melbourne’s eastern suburbs. He is also a youth consultant for the Baptist Union of Victoria and freelances as a cartoonist and illustrator. He is married to Katrina and has two boys, Thomas and Jared. He was a volunteer chaplain with the Victorian Council of Churches following the Black Saturday bushfires. This article was first published on his blog.
