Scientologist Jenny Good on her “Scientology mom” and the legacy of indiscriminate help with which she was raised. Published courtesy of STAND (Scientologists Taking Action Against Discrimination)
In the aftermath of hurricane Harvey, the Scientology Volunteer Ministers (VMs) came by the truckload to help. They brought supplies and blankets and water and able bodies to clean up the disaster. They delivered food and comfort, and among them was my mom.
Yep, my fearless mother who flies into the face of a hurricane. Who, at sixty plus, is down there with the rest of our volunteers mucking out houses, sawing trees, picking up trash, and clearing roads, all while doing logistics and organizing a clean-up of the aftermath.
My mom is the deputy national director for the Churches of Scientology Disaster Response. She’s a Volunteer Minister and a member of National VOAD (Voluntary Organizations Active in Disaster) and Utah VOAD, a partner with FEMAand Homeland Security. She’s a certified disaster response trainer… I don’t even know all the other badges of honor she’s earned… she’s really just my mom.
My mom has always loved helping people. I could say it is her mission in life. As a child I barely noticed it. It was normal for us to stop and ask if some broken-down road warrior needed assistance or to work the food service line at the local homeless shelter.
But as an adult, this kind of drive is something I strive for. I honestly don’t know how she does it. It takes commitment to be on call the way she is. It takes commitment to travel away from the warmth and comfort of her own house to a place where hurricanes have uprooted families and lives. It takes commitment and care and a sense of true goodness and humanity.
Something I wish I had more of.
I read some snarky comment the other day about how Scientology Volunteer Ministers do what they do for “PR”…
And then I thought about my mom.
Yeah, sure. PR.
My mom just left for her second trip to Rockport, Texas. She’s heading up a caravan of construction supplies for rebuilding that town. I think it’s a twenty-four hour drive.
No one asked her to go.
That’s just who she is—who she will always be—and I am so proud to call her my mom.