It always gets me how if I stay out of the way yet am courageous enough to be available Jesus does his thing. Here is a letter from the couple that came on our trip. Great idea for you retired folks if you have the courage.

October 27, 2007

Hello People

Some People have asked me for a recap letter about our trip to Mississippi. Some People probably are interested, but didn't ask for a whole big long letter. Some People may not have even known that we went. But, one thing is for sure, if you are Some People that received a copy of this, you are People important in our lives. Thanks for being one of those People.

Oh, yeah - the trip… Catherine and I were thinking "construction" trip, and ended up with a "relationship" trip. Here's some of how it went.

On very short notice (about three weeks before departure) we decided to go to the Gulf Coast to help out with the continuing recovery from Hurricane Katrina. We tried to gather a few people to go with us, but mostly because of the short notice and no available vacation time, we ended up going by ourselves. There is probably nothing I enjoy more these days than traveling with Catherine, and doing service projects with Catherine. So, this is both - yea!

We connected with an organization that has been involved in the recovery through these past two-plus years. Staying at this base, this same week, were 5 people from Florida, 4 from Michigan, 1 from Georgia, and 7 from Ontario, Canada-"eh", and us.

Catherine and I stayed in a FEMA trailer, which is one of the Government trailers that were distributed to people who needed temporary housing while there houses were being repaired or rebuilt. Most of these trailers are on the property of the house being rebuilt, but there are actually entire trailer parks of these government trailers.

The director of this ministry base, where we stayed knew lots of people and has done much work in the community. Drew Adams was in the construction business in Nebraska, before moving his family here to lead this project full-time. Drew could have just scheduled project after project for us to do, but instead he asked us to seek God, meet people, and see where that leads. For the group overall this meant going out into the neighborhoods, meeting people, finding projects that need to be done, going to Home Depot for materials, and repairing houses (most of this work was inside, as most of the rubble clean up and roof repairs have been completed).

For Catherine and I, even though we did a little bit of repair work, the trip was a little different. Here are a couple of stories to get the flavor….

Story #1

The first day out, Catherine and I went to the fishing pier and meet some fishermen. We had packed some sandwiches, cookies, and bottles of cold water. We shared food and conversations with several people, but after several quick hard rains, all that was left on the pier was Catherine, myself, and 28 year old Bryan, who kind of resembled Johnny Deep. The reason Bryan was still there, was that he lived in his car with his dog, and they spent much of their time on this pier.

At first, Bryan just shared a few little tid-bits about his life, but the more he realized we weren't judging him for what he had done, the more he opened up. Bryan had a long history of being in and out of jail, in and out of mental institutions, and an incredibly crazy, dysfunctional family. His foot was disgustingly infected from stepping on a rusty nail (somehow he had a prescription, but no money to get it filled). His hands were very sore and beat-up from fighting, and he didn't go anywhere without the knife he kept in his shoe.

At one point, we decided we would go to the pharmacy that was holding his prescription for a payment. Since Catherine and I did not have a car, we decided to go in Bryan's very-smelly, barely-running, muffler-dragging on the ground, 1985 Olds 88. As we drove along listening to Bryan's "The Monkees" tape, I marveled at the fact that Catherine could be in a situation like this, and be just a friendly and real, as she would be helping someone decorate a big fancy home.

After driving around town at no more than 10 mph, we got Bryan's prescription, some cigarettes, and $5 worth of gas (this car is never going very far), and made it back to the pier safely.

Before we left him, we prayed with Bryan. As Catherine and I prayed, Bryan would actually pray in agreement with us, with an audible "yes" or "that's right". Our continued prayer for Bryan Payne is that he would connect with The God of the Universe that loves him more than any of us can imagine.

Story #2

On Saturday morning, the next to last day of the trip, Catherine decided to give the FEMA trailer a major cleaning for the next people that might stay there. There was some stuff left in the freezer that gagged me badly when I opened it; she was brave enough to attack it.

Catherine and I had been together almost the entire time, up to this point. I sensed it would be a good time for us to be apart, and each spend a few hours alone with God. (Also, I would have probably puked cleaning up the freezer). I decided to walk through town and see what work God would lead me to. I had some ideas, but would be open to God leading me.

As I walked (actually almost marching toward some work to do), I had the need for a restroom. Ahead was a construction site with a Porto-john. I stopped and used the facilities. When I came out, I watched the workers for few minutes, then looked at the sign in front of the project, which included permits, info, etc. I noticed that in pretty large letters it said, Job 713.

Since I was trying to determine what God wanted me to do this day, I looked up in my Blackberry Bible, Job 7:13. It is a verse where Job is complaining to God, and mentions resting on his bed and on his couch. I decided to just sit down for awhile. I didn't really see any place to sit, but across the street was the High School Football Stadium. There were lots of empty seats there. The night before was their Homecoming Game, and the stadium was a mess, but right there in front of me were the King and Queen's seats. I sat in the King's chair to see what God wanted to tell me next.

I sat in that empty stadium, just God and me. He corrected me on things in my life and encouraged me in others. Thanks be to God.

After about an hour, I was ready to move on. I was marching on to the Winn Dixie to buy trash bags. I thought I would clean up the stadium and give the Janitors a big shock on Monday morning. After walking about 300 yards toward Winn Dixie, God said, see that tree over there, go sit down.

For some of us, maybe you too, it can be difficult to sit and do nothing. Not cleaning, not repairing, not watching TV, not surfing the Internet, not listening to the radio, not hanging out with friends. Nothing. But, I really recommend it. We live in a very busy "DO"-world. That 3-plus hours of "not-doing", speaking to no one (except God) was a highlight for me.

Story #3

Okay, Friday evening- Drew, the 7 Canadians-"eh", Catherine, and I decided we were going to go buy a whole bunch of watermelons, and take them into the inter city, and hand them out to kids or anyone who wanted some.

We took the watermelons, a 8' folding table, a cutting board, three knives, and some paper towels. We found a family working on a couple of vehicles in their yard - parents, brothers, sisters, grandkids, etc. They said we could set up on the street at the end of there driveway. Very nice people - one daughter had a five week old baby (she also had a new job and was working on her GED). She was also training her brother how to handle an infant, as he was also soon due to have a child.

I went out a block or so, in several directions to get more people to come over for some watermelon. No one. No one. No one would come, not from a block away, not from two houses away. And, we had a lot of watermelon.

Keep in mind, this was an all black neighborhood, and it was after dark. We were 10 white folks.

I carried/delivered a couple of pieces to some people close by, and we decided that was all we could do. But, then the Canadians-"eh" (almost all young 20-somethings) decided we should just pick-up the whole table and walk through the neighborhood.

Picture this- Groups of 3-4 or up to 20+ Black people hanging out on the street together (residential area). Now down the street, you see walking towards you, what looks like a dozen White people carrying a big table and bunch of watermelons. (Fortunately they couldn't see the knives). Most would just stare at us as we got closer and closer. Once there, most jumped in and enjoyed the treat. We would hang out for awhile, talk, laugh, and usually pray with them before we move on. Hours of walking through the hood delivering fresh slices of juicy watermelon. What we heard again and again from the people was that they were glad we came (and that we didn't just send watermelon, or wait for them to come to us). Blessings fell on us and them.

One particular stop had about 4-6 young people in a car in front of a house. Some of them a little intoxicated. One of them suggested that we go into the house, because their grandmother was in there with their kids (several 2-5 year olds).

Catherine and I grabbed a bunch of slices and entered the house, with people everywhere. The little kids, grandma, and the other adults- all couldn't have been more pleased that we were in their house, hanging out, talking, laughing, and eating watermelon. Before we left, Catherine prayed with Grandma - over her household, including some legal problems she had related to the family that she was trying to hold together.

People… all along the way… like Wylie Wilson, 65, who probably ate 6-8 pieces of watermelon, while telling me stories of growing up as a farmer (cotton) and his life today as a bricklayer. (3 of his 4 kids were in college - how did he pull that off?). Catherine met one of his sons, and said she was absolutely in awe of how nice and respectable this young man was. Wylie really, really appreciated the watermelon, conversations, and prayer. We appreciated being there with him, even if ever so briefly. People… all along the way… there were many, many more.

Story #4

A 16 year old girl we met (actually, had the record with 10 pieces of watermelon) told us that she would go to church across the street on Sunday morning. We told her, we would be there, too. She didn't show, but it was one church service I will never forget….

Small, one room, wood frame building… 10 of us white folk… about 15 decked-out black people (Sunday Best, hats and all)... lots of hand-waving, shouting Amen's, etc. The pastor would talk for awhile then out of nowhere would break into a song. This style is definitely not ours, but we were immersed into the culture and living in the moment. Catherine said I reminded her of Steve Martin (from the movie, The Jerk… "I was born a poor black child". He thought he was Black, but had a White body).

At one point, the pastor pointed to Catherine and I (seated closer to the back than to the front), and said for the brother and sister (us) to come to the front and lead us in "a time of testimonies".

We shared about how God was is bringing Catherine and I closer and closer together through our service to others, and how thankful we were for the past, looking forward to what He has for us in the future, and blessed to be in that moment.

People (white and black) began to pop-up all over the sanctuary to share what God was doing in their lives. BJ, and older Black man, first time ever at this church, shared that he had to stop trying to save himself from his addiction to drugs and alcohol, and was going to trust God to do it.

At one point in the service, Pastor walked up to the sister behind us, probably 60 years old, and asked her if she had a word for us. She thought for a moment, then took the microphone and started singing A cappella, very loud… "it's not about me… it's not about you… it's about Jesus!" She sang repeatedly for 3-4 minutes, but these were the only words she sang,

I almost feel like standing, shouting, and waving my hands right now.

All Glory To God. He Is Good.

Love ya-

Catherine and Tony