Hey friends!
About two weeks ago, my squad and I made it back to our little refuge here in Georgia after spending a second week down in Louisiana working with Samaritans Purse’s disaster relief team. You’ve probably heard about all the pain and destruction this hurricane season has brought these communities. All the World Race: Gap Year squads here got the opportunity to be the hands and feet of Jesus and serve in these communities by walking beside homeowners and hearing their stories, cleaning debris and removing fallen trees, tarping destroyed roofs, and taking out walls, ceilings, and floors with water damage. It’s crazy to think that I thought I’d be living overseas right now but somehow found myself in a small town in Louisiana. But I wouldn’t change a thing. God showed up in some crazy ways, I met some really cool people, and I learned how to use a chainsaw, which is pretty cool.
A lot happened those two weeks in LA. A lot of good things, and some hard things. A lot has also happened in the couple of weeks since we’ve been back home. And I’ve been trying since the day we first got back to write a blog full of all my “stories from the bayou”, but I’ve been struggling to write it.
It’s not that I don’t have stories.
I could tell you guys about Kelly, a high school teacher whose passion for history and her students made us forget that we were there to tear down drywall and not just talk with her, and how she teared up when we gifted her with a bible because the bible she had since high school was destroyed in the hurricane.
Or I could tell you about Mrs.Veronica, and how she treated us like we were her grandkids. And how she went out and sat on the rocking chair on her front porch and prayed when she got overwhelmed. Or how our all-girls team cut up and moved a tree that had fallen in her backyard, tarped up her roof, and removed the walls, ceilings, and insulation in three rooms of her house.
Or I could tell you about Wayne and Berline. Oh my gosh. I could talk forever about the stories they told us about how they met, about their kids and grandkids, or how they made us all an authentic Cajun meal just so we could try it.
But I don’t know how to tell you these stories in a way that captures exactly what God showed me, and what I want to share with you.
So I’ll just share this:
One day, when my team was working on Wayne and Berline’s house, tearing out basically everything that made this house resemble a home, God showed me something really cool. I stopped working for a second and noticed how pretty the light coming in from the doorway into this empty house was. And I smiled as a remembered that from the moment we got there, Berline was full of joy, thanking the Lord for bringing us, sharing us stories about her family, and dreaming up plans of what renovations she could do to the house when it was fixed. And I realized, this place that was supposed to be full of darkness and destruction, was actually full of hope, joy, and love.
I started writing this poem that day in Louisiana, almost a month ago and forgot about it. But in the midst of “storms” in my life here in Georgia and back home, I thought I needed the reminder. So I finished it today. I’ve never really posted poetry before, but I think this is the best way to share with you what I learned.
Thanks for reading 🙂
“Broken Home”
Your light creeps through these broken windows,
And Your love walks through these empty door frames
if the enemy thought he could feed on the darkness here,
he left with an empty plate
because even in the midst of this chaos
demons still flee at your name
and even though You didn’t calm this storm
these people find refuge in you all the same
God I’m sorry I walked into this room
listening to the enemy say there’s no hope
when I know it was love and not these walls
that made this place a home
these people have built a refuge in You
that still stands when this house is stripped to its bones
these walls don’t need to talk
their stories will still be told
thank you for the memories here
and all the sweet moments we shared
with people who reminded me
that where you are, darkness cannot be
so I can stand in this room, with broken windows and empty door frames and proclaim:
fear has no place here
darkness has no place here
Your name echos in our ears
because hope has made its way in here
