Caring for Trauma Victims

Two weeks after the horrific events of 911 a group of us from the Life Way Counseling Centers were asked by the Salvation Army to spend a week at Ground Zero working with the First Responders that had been working night and day in an attempt to Search for the bodies of the deceased and Rescue anyone left alive.

Carla Faison and I worked with several others on the night shift from 1:00 PM until 1:00 AM. It was an exhausting and draining 12 hours. We spent a lot of time hanging around the three tents erected by the Salvation Army to be haven's of peace in the midst of dirt, dust and death's stench; all of three of which hung on every piece of clothing and every open space in the Triboro area of New York.

The men and women whom we met over coffee and cakes were exhausted and emotionally drained. Some had hardly slept for two weeks. With bloodshot eyes and crumpled bodies they related their stories of horror and pain and the dread they felt about leaving anyone unaccounted.

The New York Police and Fire Fighters were especially drained. They shared both survivor guilt and anger at the terrorists as well as a grim thankfulness that they were alive. What can one say to such wounded people, some of whom lost their best friends and family members? Are there any words that can bring healing?

Nope. Words cannot change anything. However, we discovered the same truth that all the research shows to be true. Being with the First Responders and listening to them at their pace was the best medicine of all. Therapists have come up with several different types of "Critical Incident Interventions" but outcome research shows that these are artificial and may even be harmful.

Scripture says it this way. "The greatest is love." Sitting alongside a big, evidently tough Cope in the middle of the night beside a tent being used as a morgue and silently listening while that cop poured out his pain and anger was real Christian love.

In closing he said, "My buddies said I needed to talk with a Counselor or a man of the cloth so I was lucky to find you and got both at the same time. I was feeling pretty bad so the guys I work with saw you handing out coffee and told me I had to tell you what was going on. I feel a whole lot better now so thanks a lot, Father Gary, for listening to me. Now I see what I need to do."

That was not the first time I had been called "Father" by a man but it sounded awfully good in my ear. He was an Irish Catholic who naturally placed me into the world he knew. What advice did I give him? Not a single thing was offered except my ability to listen very carefully to what was on his heart.

He had read the Bible in Parochial school and heard the Priest's homilies about forgiveness and knew what he needed to do to be healed. All that was missing was a "Father Gary" to let him think it through.

Afterward, the cops who brought him to me smiled and thanked me warmly. We all felt good about the "miracle" that God did with their buddy.