Remembering Katrina

Remembering Katrina
Hard to believe it's been over two years since the storm, but seeing just one photograph brings the experience back to memory, although one picture does not do it justice. I am reminded of the vast difference between seeing pictures and being in the picture, but also mindful that it was the effect two-dimensional images had on my heart that led me to this place.

This was my second trip to gulf region. On this occasion our mission was to assist others in establishing a base camp where servants of the church could stay while going about the business of helping those affected by the storm.

We drove into Biloxi initially and the pastor of the local church was very helpful. We arrived just in time for the church's regular service and you might find it very interesting that this particular building suffered little or no damage, despite the fact it was in the same area where buildings were severely damaged or destroyed. Remarkable.

The next day the pastor drove us around to various locations in order that we might find a suitable place for our camp. None were found, although we came close a couple times. Then the Lord stepped in and guided us to a small community Bay St. Louis, MS.

We discovered that teams had already arrived and set-up camp on a high school baseball field. We fit right in, recognizing that we did not have to reinvent the wheel and soon we were ministering to the needs of the community. The camp would ultimately function as a tent-city for workers and a restaurant to the community. We also strived to meet the spiritual needs of every person.

Rescue workers (fireman, police, EMTs), who had come from all parts of our country discovered they could find a good meal, a hot shower, and a friend to lean on. On our first night in the camp I met one such man.

He was a cop and we had an immediate bond in that I am retired from the job; I soon discovered the bond would go much deeper.

"Do you know Jesus Christ," I asked when I felt led to do so.

"Can I tell you a story," was his reply.

"Sure," I said as I settled back into my chair, uncertain the direction this conversation was going.

Several years ago when my daughter was 2 years old, she was playing in our back yard. My wife was nearby, but she never heard a sound when my daughter fell into the pool. To this day we don't know how long she laid there on the bottom.

When we got her out she was dead. My wife did CPR and the first aiders did CPR, and finally in the ambulance my daughter gasped and took a breath.

Long story short, my daughter made a full recovery and suffered no brain damage; no noth'in, she's as perfect as can be.

A few years had passed and you got to know, we never, ever told her about the drowning. She had no memory of it, and we didn't want to freak her out about swimming and pools and stuff.

We were eating breakfast in our kitchen when (she) gets up and stands next to the sliding glass door-- just staring at the pool. I'm tell'n ya minutes went by.

Finally I ask her, "Honey, what are you stare'n at," not even thinking about the pool or the drowning at all.

"That's where Jesus held me," she said.

"What are you talk'n about honey," it still hadn't clicked for me.

"'That's where Jesus held me when I was on the bottom of the pool."
"So to answer your question Dave, Yes, I know Jesus. I've got a trunk load of Bibles in my car I've been given out, do you want one?"

I am so grateful I asked that question that day. Do you know Jesus?