Look for the Helpers

"Always look for the helpers.  There's always someone who is trying to help." 

--"Mr." Fred Rogers' Mom

I wrote most of this on the plane home from Texas as I tried to process everything.  Blessedly, we had a huge plane with very few passengers and I had an entire row to myself, so I could just let the tears flow privately.  I really still don't even know how to begin to process everything I saw and heard, and was privy to.  I don't know how much I want to share, and what I need to guard in my heart.  I do know this trip was different than Jamaica in that unlike in Jamaica, where we left the children the same as we found them, we left the homeowners in Texas better than we found them.  In that way, it's been easier to come home than it was coming home from Jamaica, a relief in so many ways.

My plan going down was to take tons of pictures, maybe post them to social media--"Hey!  Look what we're doing!  Look what's still going on down here!"  Once we landed and I saw the destruction and devastation still there, I couldn't.  It was like a punch to the gut.  It hits you--this is not trash, this is not debris.  This is what is left of peoples' lives. These are heirlooms, memories, photographs, family histories--all on the sides of the roads.  Even on the sides of the interstates where FEMA and the state leave it until they can burn it--BURN IT--just sitting there, where the homeowners have to look at it, their wrecked lives.  I could not take pictures of these piles, or the homes, or anything else.  These were not my stories to tell. Even going back and forth to our job sites, I felt like a looky-loo just looking at the piles, so I kept my head down.  I did stare my first day, just taking it all in, but felt awful for doing it.  It was like a train wreck, then you realize exactly what you're looking at.  

Just as with the pictures, I could tell you a few stories for the GASP affect, but I can't and I won't. I will share some stories with you, but most I will carry only in my heart. 

This was a very emotional week for me.  I've worked on several missions trips doing construction work.  This was my first deconstruction trip.  And when the homeowner is right there, it just makes things even more emotional.  You must remind yourself to mind your laughter and your words, to mind where you toss your empty water bottles and the debris as you dismantle their homes, to mind where you step, and how you carry what is left of their belongings, and where you put it as you work around it.  While we were working to build the homeowners up, we were also working to tear their homes down.  It was a horrible irony.

I'm grateful for the complete strangers who became immediate friends.  I will admit, my first day out when I was on my own away from my home team, I panicked a bit--but it's obvious God wants me out of my comfort zone.  I jumped in with both (left) feet, and found many others with my (lack of) skill level, but same willingness to learn.  I'm grateful to those who made it easy for me to learn, who took me under their wings and taught me alongside them (there aren't any 'little women' on these job sites--if you find the job, you do the work!).  There were those I found with similar senses of humor, who joked with me and caught on to my eagerness (but they wouldn't let me have power tools--not even a chainsaw--excuse me, especially a chainsaw!).  Humor was a huge part of decompression each evening when we returned to the church where we were staying.  The women's dorm was more like a women's retreat every night, and that morning worship--oh, that every morning should begin that way! YES LORD!  

Last week was amazing and truly awful at the same time.  It was amazing to be with so many wonderful people, volunteers and homeowners alike, and to know we were part of something worthy and good.  But awful for the reasons we had to be there, what we saw, and the stories we heard.  We should have all met under better circumstances, but we're grateful for all the people who volunteered and gave up so much time from their lives for others.  My heart is a little heavier, my prayers are bigger and more fervent, but as I said earlier, we did leave these homeowners better than we found them, and for that, I'm grateful.   

It was amazing because I had almost no pain or symptoms at all last week!  You have to remember, I have daily pain, and there are things like cleaning my house or going grocery shopping that can lay me out for days at a time. I can get winded just walking up my stairs, or getting my mail.  Last week was truly an example of "if God brings you to it, He will bring you through it."  It was incredible!  I met several others with autoimmune illnesses having similar experiences.  We just wanted to dance in the streets and shout from the rooftops--instead, we were pulling off rooftops.  It was awful because one of the homeowners we ministered to struggles with her health like I do, but so amazing that we were able to help her and pray with her as she accepted Christ into her heart ("again," she said.  I hugged her so hard as we both cried before our team left, both of us saying, "No tears!" I just wanted to hug it all out of her, just hold her until she didn't hurt anymore.  My prayer for her is that she knows how beautiful and worthy she is--that she is able to believe it.).  It's awful there are still people living in tent cities, others who have not returned to their homes at all, people who are storing what is left of their belongings under tarps after their homes have been torn down, people who are being taken advantage of by clean up crews and contractors.  Some homes have just been boarded up and/or abandoned completely just as they are because the homeowners cannot afford to start over.  I noticed many of the homes that have been boarded up are still being lived in.

Selfishly, one particular homeowner's home was a turning point for me.  She was an older woman, such a sweet, God-loving woman.  She kept saying, "I have plenty of questions, I don't have the answer, but I do know God is still good, and you are all proof of that!"  She sat outside with her daughter and they watched us, as they went through several boxes of what had survived the flood and the storm.  I felt despondent just watching her.  We completely gutted her home, and I learned I can do hard work.  I didn't have Shawn there to fall back on, and everyone else was doing hard work, so when I found the work, I had to do the work.  There were plywood walls that had to be pulled down, carpet had to be pulled up, some tight spaces the drywall had to be removed from, insulation pulled out, there were roaches and other bugs--I did it all.  It was good, hard work.  I will admit, it was cathartic. It felt good to swing that hammer.  At one point, as I was connecting with that drywall, I realized I was yelling at seizures and had tears down my face, but no one could hear me because of my mask and the noise from the machines.  Perfect.  I might need more construction work.  One morning, I found a shiny 2012 penny on her floor.  Just a penny.  I took it down to her, saying that I know Christians like us don't have much use for luck, but perhaps it will bring her some blessings as she starts over.  She became teary, and told me she had lost her husband's coin collection in the flooding, so yes, she could use that penny to start over.  Oh, my heart.  I spent some time cleaning up her yard, and I scrubbed her bathroom, top down, for her.  Everyone deserves a clean potty, even if they don't have walls.

In some areas the damage was almost tornadic in nature.  Trailers and RVs and buildings were twisted like tin cans, not just once, but several times.  On any given block, one or two homes would have to be completely demolished, but others right next to those only gutted.  So many families don't have flood insurance, others don't have any insurance at all.  FEMA will guarantee one family the full amount, but the next family won't qualify for anything, and at times, the reasoning seems random.  Many families suddenly find themselves living on a floodplain, and have to jack their homes up before they can even begin gutting or repairing.  Many of those same families are now required to carry flood insurance they currently can't afford, also before they can begin gutting and repairing, but it does not help them right now, of course.  At almost every turn, it seems as though the red tape is built to work against them.  

Learning just how much red tape is involved (*cough* corrupt) with the government and businesses during these times, how much these folks are bilked out of, and just all the overwhelming nonsense these sweet people have to wade through makes me glad I've chosen to volunteer with a nonprofit who doesn't charge them a penny.  Christ in Action goes in, removes everything, roof to floor, so the contractors have a clean slate to work with.  Many homeowners are saved an average of $10-$15000, often even more.  It's good stuff.

One afternoon I noticed some papers beginning to blow away from the 'trash' pile on the side of the road, so I went over and bagged them up.  I really tried to not look, they were someone else's private papers, but I saw they were children's school papers.  They were blowing out of a cardboard box that had been ruined in the flooding, and it looked as though the owner had dumped the box without going through it.  I came across a small bible, and pulled it out.  I took it to our homeowner, but she didn't recognize it.  My hope is to maybe find the original owner--I have two names in it, and a  year, so perhaps through social media, I can track the owner down.  It was given to "Teresa" on August 9, 1974 but Edith Tomblin (I think I have the last name correct).  On the front inside cover is a list of how to be saved, and several bible verses, written in a young girl's handwriting.  I would love to find the owner.

We had so many people thanking us.  It felt weird, but touched my heart just the same.  As dirty and gross and filthy as we were, these precious homeowners didn't hesitate to hug us to pieces.  I don't want to be thanked, I just want to do the work, and spread His word.  God gives me the chance to do this work--the people allow us into their homes.  They allow us into their personal tragedies.  We are the ones thanking them.  This work is a privilege.  

Texas, it was my pleasure to serve you.  THANK YOU for allowing me the honor.  Fellow Red Shirt helpers--until next time.