C.J.’s Bus Delivers Joy, Toys to Tornado-Ravaged Tuscaloosa Children

Kathryn Martin stood on a small hill in tornado-ravaged Tuscaloosa, Alabama, looking at the destruction left from the April 27 twister that claimed more than 230 lives and left thousands homeless in Alabama alone. Martin scanned a landscape of complete devastation.

 “It’s unreal,” said Martin, who was in Tuscaloosa just days after the disaster. “You look and for miles and miles, there are just strewn cars and wood. I’ve been to several different tornado areas, and there’s always something left standing. In this case, there’s nothing. I can’t help but wonder how these people have the hope that it’s going to be fixed.”

Martin, who lives with her husband and three children in Evansville, Indiana, was in Tuscaloosa with thirteen other volunteers manning C.J.’s Bus, a rapid-response, customized school bus that goes to disaster sites to keep children entertained in the aftermath of natural disasters. Inside the forty-foot bus—two sides fold out to provide 260-square feet of inside play space—children can experience some kind of normalcy by playing with toys and games, painting, drawing, and making jewelry. Working in conjunction with the local Emergency Management Agency, Martin set up C.J.’s Bus in a Tuscaloosa city park left unmarked by the tornado.

Sometimes, the desire to give back to others is born out of personal tragedy. On November 6, 2005, Martin’s two-year-old son, C.J., was killed when a deadly F3 tornado demolished Evansville’s Eastbrook Mobile Home Park where she lived. Martin’s mother-in-law and grandmother-in-law also died.

After another tornado hit the neighboring town of Otwell, Indiana, in May 2006, Martin instinctively loaded her car with crayons, coloring books, and juice boxes; drove to the shattered town to find children playing in the rubble; and offered their parents time to sit with their children and have them color as a distraction.

Eventually, through grassroots fundraising, a donated 1989 school bus was customized and turned into C.J.’s Bus. The vehicle can now be quickly deployed to disaster-torn areas to keep children entertained in the aftermath of a catastrophe until schools can reopen.

 “I could think of no greater legacy to my son than to help put smiles on the faces of other children facing these traumatic situations,” Martin said.

Using the spiritual law of where attention goes, energy flows, Martin spearheaded the passage of “C.J.’s Law,” which mandated that every mobile home manufactured in Indiana had to be equipped with a NOAA weather radio that alerts residents to severe weather threats. Martin was also in the forefront of the construction of a playground where the mobile home park once stood.

Ernest Holmes writes, “Let the one who is sad, depressed, or unhappy find some altruistic purpose into which he may pour his whole being, and he will find a new inflow of life of which he has never dreamed.” For Martin, her loss was the beginning of a more meaningful life. 

 “My purpose came after C.J. passed away,” Martin said. “At first, I was very mad; I couldn’t blame anybody. His death got me focused on what I needed to do. I definitely wanted to help others. I think once people figure out they have a purpose, it allows for hope. If you lose hope, you lose everything.”

Expanded Love

On the first day in Tuscaloosa, within six hours, nearly seventy children found C.J.’s Bus and enjoyed time at play, a welcome distraction from their bare-bones shelters and shattered homes. Some left with toys and books, along with blankets handmade by women in a retirement home back in Evansville.

Martin recalls one woman who stopped by. “She was a mother carrying her nine-week-old baby son,” Martin said. “She was wearing flip flops on her feet and she had stepped on nails. She told us of her destroyed house and how she now had nothing—no baby bed, no formula, and no clothes.”

Martin said one of the volunteers took off her shoes and gave them to the woman.

Just hours after arriving in Tuscaloosa, Martin overheard a conversation a four-year-old girl was having with a volunteer. The child had received a toy vacuum.

 “We can’t clean anymore,” the girl blurted out.

The volunteer asked, “What do you mean?”

 “We can’t clean anymore, I don’t have a house.”

Day’s after arriving, Martin and her volunteers fanned out in the nearby suburb of Holt, Alabama, passing out fliers and letting residents know C.J.’s Bus was available for their families. C.J.’s Bus has delivered its stash of toys, games, clothing, blankets, and unconditional love to flood- and tornado-damaged areas in Arkansas, Kentucky, Indiana, and other states. But the destruction in Alabama is by far the worst she has seen.

 “I’m always asked, ‘How do you go into these disaster sites?’ I believe my strength comes from the inner God. I genuinely feel blessed,” Martin said.

In the helping of others, Martin said her love for everyone and all things has expanded.

 “Before, my love was for my close friends and my family; I never looked on the big scale of things,” she said. “I’m more open and less judgmental now. I do my best to stop and think of others before my own needs. I have a whole different perspective on everything. My love for others has grown so much—to the point where when I go to these sites, I never understand why people tell us thank you. It’s an honor for us to go in and have them allow us to care for their families.

 “I don’t have to question why this happens to Alabama or wherever. I can just reach out to people and hope that I can help them. It’s so easy to make a huge difference in somebody’s life. You get to see the good in humanity. Something so simple to us may not be simple to someone else.”

At the end of the third day in the Tuscaloosa park, Martin and her volunteers clean up the many toys and games scattered inside and around C.J.’s Bus as the last group of children depart. It’s been another exhausting day for Martin and her volunteers, but one where lives have been touched and children made happier.

 “I think people believe it’s a lot harder to help someone than it really is,” she said.

While scooping up the last few toys from around the bus, an enlarged image on the side of the bus of a smiling C.J. with his thumbs pointed upward can be seen as sunlight dims.

 “His picture is on the side of the bus for a reason,” Martin said. “It lets everyone know the bus is for them.”

To visit the website click on this link www.cjsbus.org