The Presbyterian Disaster Assistance motto is “Out of Chaos, Hope.”  We learned quite a bit about both in our travels to Mississippi.

Chaos

Chaos is arriving at the airport to leave on a trip, and then realizing that you have forgotten your photo ID.

Chaos is landing in your final destination, and realizing that your bags haven’t made the same trip.

Chaos is having a delayed flight, and missing your connection.

Chaos is flushing the van keys down the toilet.

Chaos is leaving home and family for a week to go away to a place when you don’t know where you will sleep, or eat, or use the bathroom.

Chaos is being forced into an attic crawl space for 4 hours in sweltering heat and humidity while a storm raged outside.

Chaos is waiting in the upper levels of your home as your lower level, including a salon and sewing business get washed out to sea.

Chaos, is not knowing if the family you left behind to wait out the storm survived, and not being able to get in touch with them for days.

Chaos is losing your home, your job, your church, and your social structure in a matter of hours.

Chaos is being without water, electricity, food, and transportation for days or weeks.

Chaos is having your house nearly rebuilt after the hurricane, only to have it fall off its lifts, and crumble into a pile of rubble.

Chaos is realizing that your insurance company does not want to pay for the damages caused by hurricane winds and flooding.

Yes, we certainly encountered chaos as we participated in what we believed was God’s mission for us in the Gulf Coast.

Hope is using the destruction that the Hurricane brought as an opportunity to build your dream house.  A man that we met decided that since his existing home could not be saved, this was his chance to build the house he always wanted.  With no experience or skill, this man bought a book at Lowes about how to build a house, and then set about the task.  He was gracious enough to invite us in to tour it on our last day in Mississippi.

Hope is realizing that God used the branches that you were too busy to cut down to save your life, and the life of your family, as was the case with the family who lived across the street from where we worked.

Hope was having two women who we had never met thank us with tears in their eyes for coming and helping in the rebuilding process, even though we hadn’t done anything for them or anyone they knew.

Hope is having a local business open their doors to us, allowing us to come in, cool off, and use the facilities all week long, even though we were dirty sweaty, and likely smelled bad.

Hope is hearing the many stories of those who lived through the hurricane in the Gulf, and hearing their resolve to move on with their lives.  Everywhere we turned, people were more than willing to share their story, including one woman, who waited an extra few minutes outside of the general store, just so she could tell us her account of the storm.

Hope is hearing people say, “It’s only stuff.”  when we commented on the enormity of their losses.

Hope is being a part of something that is bigger than you are, and seeing God at work.

Hope is sitting in the airport totally exhausted and yet encouraged as you watch fresh teams walk off the plane, ready to serve and help.

Hope is seeing members of your church family serve and grow and change along side of you.

Without a doubt, we saw God bringing Hope out of Chaos, everywhere we turned.  The people appreciated the dry walling we did, but as we worked we realized that the true value of our trip was in listening to the stories of the faithful who had lived through the storms.  By listening to their stories we provided encouragement, and we gained a true picture of what God can do in the lives of those who are faithful.

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