Dear Ms. P,
It’s me, Rachel. I’m from the World Race group that came to your house about a month ago. We were dressed in bright orange shirts, with “Samaritan’s Purse: Helping in Jesus’ Name” written in big letters on the front and back. I’m sure even your neighbors might remember us. After all, we were quite a sight – a group of teenage girls, directed by a marine veteran, knocking down the walls of your home and carrying sheets upon sheets of drywall to the foot of your driveway.
But Ms. P, I’m not writing to remind you of who I am or what group I am a part of, but I’m writing to let you know that you reminded me of Jesus on that humid November day when we showed up at your house.
It was day nine of our fourteen days in Louisiana, day nine of getting up before 6am, day nine of eating a pb&j for lunch, day nine of wearing my walmart jeans held up by the shoelace I used as a belt, day nine of putting on work goggles to shield my eyes from dust that fell with the ceilings, day nine of sweeping up piles and piles of shattered sheetrock, and day nine of carrying moldy furniture to the sidewalk where it could be picked up by the trash service. All that to say Ms. P, it was day nine of some of the longest days I’ve had in a while, and after days like that, as I’m sure you know, it’s pretty easy to want to quit, or even just slow down a bit. But Ms. P, you reminded me that the long days and hard work are not in vain.
The way you invited us into your home, taking time to get to know each one of us, the way you told us stories about each of the damp and moldy items we took to the curb, the way you found a way to bake cookies for us even though you didn’t have a kitchen floor, the way you played piano and let your beautiful voice carry throughout the house as we worked, the way you introduced us to your pastor, the way you laughed with us as we sat on your driveway eating our bagged lunch – Ms. P, the way you acted that day reminded me of the intentionality of Jesus.
You showed me that every single one of the 97 houses my group completed during those two weeks, was not just another number to be added to the list, but it was someone’s home. Maybe it was the place where a couple had settled down for retirement, maybe the place where a family had been living and growing for years, or maybe the place where newlyweds chose to start their life together. But no matter the background, each item we carried to the road had a story, every moldy pillow was woven with memories, and each broken cabinet was shelved with laughter and pain, with tears and dancing.
You could’ve easily chosen to sit silently as we carried your life out the front door, or you could’ve simply not shown up at all. We walked into your house with “Helping in Jesus’ Name” written across our backs, and we left having seen what it looks like to also receive in Jesus’ name. And Ms. P, that’s because you came. You loved us. And you ripped out your own carpet with a smile on your face.
I don’t think you know how important your smile was to my team, but I’m writing this to tell you thank you. Thank you for showing us the hospitality and care of Christ, and thank you for living your life as a reminder that the Lord is our home, whether we have a house or not. I hope we get to see each other again someday soon <3
With love,
Rachel
to honor and protect Ms. P, I have not included a picture with her, but here are a couple pictures of my group in Louisiana!
