West, Texas...nothing would be enough.

West, Texas---Boxes heaped with personal household supplies, a couple search dogs lay on the floor, and tables with fliers of information made a u-shape as you entered the door of the Community Center in this tiny town of West, Texas.  A place that is reeling with grief because of the past several weeks of tragedy and enormous loss.

I was driving from Austin to Fort Worth and West is literally off the highway between the two.  I found myself exiting one exit early and following a road that lead me directly to the Center on the edge of the disaster area. I had absolutely no interest in seeing the blast sight but it was easy to see what direction it was by the blocked off road ahead and the police checking vehicles that passed. A large red and white tent was set up in the lot next door and bottled water could be seen in piles and piles.

Ten days earlier on Wednesday, April 17 a massive explosion at the West Fertilizer Co., rocked the town just before 8 p.m. A standing count of 15 were killed, mainly first responders, along with 200 injured, and many homes and businesses damaged or destroyed.

It is rare you hear about a disaster and are able to directly help. I know the Red Cross and organizations like them act on donations but I don’t know the face of who gets helped by anything I do. So, I decided that one person in West would be directly helped just a little.

When I walked in to the center I soon found out that everyone there was a volunteer. I connected with a woman who was a nurse from the Waco health department giving away tetanus shots to everyone from the area. I found out they had divided up the town in sections 1, 2 and 3 based on the proximity to the blast and was told that soon the meal was to be served and many would be coming. That I should wait.

Soon a small woman was talking to the nurse. I learned that anyone in the affected area had had to throw EVERYTHING edible away…including medicines. Inside their homes were covered in the soot that the blast produced. No one really knew what the chemicals that layered all their things would do. But her daughter was very sick. Most businesses were still closed and so she wasn’t working and didn't have enough money for the medicine and had not even heard from her boss. She was in zone 2.  She turned to me and continued to explain that all the windows had blown in from the explosion and she had come to pick up cleaning supplies available in the big tent. She said that was all that she could do was clean. She didn’t know how she would get medicine for her daughter but she pointed up and said “I am just trusting Him.”

She talked so fast I had a hard time stopping her to tell her what I wanted. Finally I said, “please listen.”  I started to explain that I was from Florida and had got off the highway to meet one person. She became very embarrassed because she had thought I was a volunteer and quickly said she was not asking for money. I had to reach for her hand and put my donation in it and curl her fingers back around it.

Her eyes filled with tears and she hugged me. She was so little that her hug was at my hips. I quickly left. I don’t know her name and she doesn’t know mine. But I know a hundred people who would have done the same thing if they were passing through this little town.

I decided that I could stop for lunch and gas up here as well, another small gesture to the town.

I walked their small down town where on one side were buildings and the other was a railroad track. I watched a short line of Union Pacific railway cars rattle by.  It was blatantly obvious that this was a very poor area. I selected the Czech American Café and had the best meatloaf of my life. The café was a giant step back in time. It had not been renovated since at least the 40’s or 50’s with extremely high ceiling that showed paint worn wooden planks. The kitchen was in a clear line of site from the dining room of about 15 tables.  “Grandma” was baking bread from a normal kitchen oven and the daughter was at the register. State troopers and local law enforcement filled a table for six and everyone at the table wore a cowboy hat. The conversation was solemn and faces were grim all around. One waitress had driven in from a nearby town to help and was making it her personal quest to be extremely cheerful. She got the officers to start talking about fishing. The air broke for a few moments with a bantering of brag-induced fish stories.

The word “Czech” was everywhere. So when I looked into it I learned that Czech immigrants moved here around the turn on the century. A man named Thomas West had planted roots here and a town followed. A popular Czech heritage festival happens every Labor Day weekend.

I found out that Willie Nelson grew up a few miles down highway 35. He had his first paying gig in West. The Willie Nelson concert in Austin yesterday that Sheila and I attempted to get tickets had sold out when it had turned into a tribute to West. Now that made even more sense.

Before leaving town I stopped at a gas station to fill up. I was standing outside of my vehicle staring at the pump and trying to figure out why there was no place to swipe my card when a high school-age kid asked if he could help. I said I wanted to fill up and he swiftly grabbed the hose handle and made for my tank as I stood dumb-founded. Next he asked if I wanted my windows washed. Finally it hit me. I remember this, what did they use to call it? Oh yea, full service!

The man gassing up next to me was grinning. I looked at him and asked if they were serious. He said they were and laughed at me trying for figure out where to stand. I asked him if he was from West. The tone changed. Yes, he and his buddy had just come from the funeral of their classmate. They had red bows on their lapels.

How exactly do you respond to that.  I said I was sorry for them, for their town. And just like my meager donation. Nothing would be enough.