Excitedly, we all loaded into our vans and headed for the lower 9th Ward. This was our first day of gutting homes, and excitement was high as we anticipated tackling the work for which we had come. There was light, cheerful banter in the vans, and we were all pretty pumped.Two teams (including mine) were sent to gut this cute little blue house. The other team was sent inside to begin gutting, while our team was told to begin clean-up outside. I was completely unprepared.
As my new friend, Ali, and I began cleaning up trash around this house and the neighboring houses, we soon found deteriorated pages from a cherished photo album. This struck me particularly hard, as these homes now had a personal face. They weren't just abandoned, empty homes...they were homes where real people like you and me lived and did life. We came across old cupboard doors. Lots of what we found was simply trash. You can imagine all that was floating around in the flood water. We were working outside a home which had spray-painted markings on the outside indicating that a dead cat had been found inside. It smelled as though it was still there. As Ali and I worked outside the home, the stench was overwhelming even through our masks. We frequently had to walk a few steps away, gather our composure, take a deep breath, and return to our task.
Before long, our team was called in to join the team in the house. They wanted us to work in the garage which appeared to have served as an extra bedroom. This, too, surprised me. I guess I'd assumed that while we'd be gutting homes, the homeowner's contents would have been long since removed. But this was not the case. This house had not been touched in nearly 2 years. All of the homeowner's earthly possessions laid in a jumbled mess throughout the house. The garage in which we worked was covered in a thick coat of sludge. We sifted through clothes and Christmas decorations and bedding. For once, I was thankful that my contacts had clouded over...it made me oblivious to the cockroaches that were often seen scurrying across the floor. Though the work was hard...both physically and emotionally...our whole team persevered. Of course, when someone yelled, "Rat!" all the girls (including me) screamed and ran like wild women outside. But before long, we re-entered...energized and renewed for the task at hand. It was nothing of our own strength. I was regularly reminded that friends and family all across the country were praying for our humility and servant's hearts.
Once the garage was mostly done, I went to the main bedroom of the house. It had pink walls. I discovered a bulletin board in the rubble. Tacked to it was a letter with the homeowner's name and address. Once again, this project took on a more personal feel. And then I wondered...had Shirley survived the flooding? Was she still around? I was relieved to learn that she was actually the person to request our help in gutting her home.
Outside the house, we were instructed to make 5 piles: one for overall trash (the largest pile), one for appliances, one for flammables, one for salvagable items, and I can't remember the final pile's function. As you might figure, the smallest pile was the salvagable items. I removed a small knick-knack shelf from the wall with its untouched knick-knacks. I was also overjoyed to find a cameo. I wondered if this might be a family heirloom...something special the homeowner might find great joy in being returned to her. A framed picture of a toddler boy with a bright smile...a grandson perhaps...was also among the saved items. That was about it.
When we left that day, my heart was filled with much to ponder. God was teaching me about humility and servanthood and perseverance and compassion. But perhaps most of all, God impressed on me the life of a woman named Shirley. Though we've never met, I've found myself thinking about and praying for her...her life and her eternity. How I'm praying that God will use the devastation she's experienced to draw her into a rich, vibrant, living relationship with Him. Won't you join me?
~ Nikki
