We left from the church with a group of about nine, packed into two trucks and following a U-Haul filled with supplies. Thousands of meals for the community and hundreds of donated chairs were sent amongst the saws, drills, hammers, demolition tools, dust masks, mops, brooms, work gloves... you name it, we seemed to have brought it. The nine hour ride turned to eleven hours, and we pulled into Denham Springs (a city in the Livingston Parish of Louisiana) after the sun went down.
We sat down to dinner, and I marveled at the restaurant, as it appeared virtually unaffected only two weeks after devastation occurred. I tried to imagine what the rest of the community looked like. We pulled into Abundant Life Church (where we were hosted) after dinner, and that was the first glimpse I had at how relentlessly and indiscriminately the flood had poured out its destruction. In the dark of the night we could see heaps of trash, piled as high as our heads, full of ruined furniture, discarded decorations, disposed children’s toys, and more, mixed in among flooring waste, rotting insulation, and an array of putrid indistinguishable items . The doors of the church were open, revealing an entirely empty and darkened first floor-- stripped to its bones of concrete and wood framing only. The men unloaded the supplies with the help of the crew from Florida (serving from Fellowship Church), while the women were shown the temporary living quarters.
We made our way through what appeared to be the first floor of a gutted apartment complex. It was dark and eery. The woman from their group corrected me, it was actually a wing of the church-- the children’s wing. We climbed up a makeshift staircase and found the second floor of the church. Our room provided shelter, air conditioning, and light-- luxuries that most homes in the community were without. We set up our air mattresses, and prepared for what the next day would bring.
Wednesday and Thursday were a complete whirlwind. We were warned of the conditions we would encounter, but there could never be enough warning for what we witnessed. Imagine driving down the roads of your community and seeing everyone’s possessions in a heap of rubbish on the curb. Your neighbors, your parents, your friends, your church, your place of employment, your bank, your gym, your restaurants, your coffee shops, your grocery stores, your gas stations.... all of it affected. Imagine everything on the first floor of your home ruined. Your appliances, your furniture, your family keepsakes, your photographs, your groceries, your clothes, your linens, your technology, your bedroom, your children’s toys, your important documents.... none of it salvageable. Over 100,000 homes were damaged. A large number of these homeowners did not have flood insurance. Luckily, the federal government has provided aid through FEMA after over 20 Louisiana parishes were declared federal disaster areas. However, FEMA distinguishes that “an insurance policy is intended to make the policyholder whole—to protect you from a hazard. FEMA assistance isn’t designed to make an individual whole—it’s more along the lines of helping an individual get essential things to start the recovery process”. This is not to take away from FEMA efforts at all, what they are able to provide is amazing...it is only to point out to the general public that these communities are FAR from being made whole. They need our help. They need continued support.
When my husband and I decided to make the trip, he had intentions of documenting their reality for the sake of growing awareness. We have very different approaches to photography-- he is a professional by trade, and has a steady confidence in his ability to photograph whatever is in front of him. I have a much more reserved mentality. It’s difficult for me to wrap my mind around street-photography to the level that he can, because to me it can feel a bit intrusive and voyeuristic. I love the end result, it’s just a little uncomfortable. We were prayerful in our approach-- we wanted to ensure that we would follow the Spirit in terms of our peace about photographing or sharing the experiences.
DAY 1
At the first house we arrived to, we met a woman named La Don, whose elderly parents lived onsite. We learned that her home had been ruined as well. She had been praying for weeks for FEMA to send a relief trailer for her parents to live in. The group leader offered La Don the camper that his crew brought, for as long as they needed. She immediately expressed gratitude, but quickly turned down the offer by stating that if there was someone with a greater need that they should have it. The men reassured her that this was exactly what the camper was for, to provide relief to someone in need. I stepped away and turned my back to the group as I felt the first tear roll down my cheek. After I composed myself, and the men began assigning jobs, I took a few moments to speak with La Don. I inquired about their greatest needs, about their physical and spiritual status, about prayer requests. She was in beautiful spirits, despite the losses, and only requested prayers for endurance. “We’ve been dealing with this for weeks now. It starts to take it’s toll on people. There’s a long road ahead.” Would you take a moment and honor that prayer request for La Don, for her community, and for the people of Louisiana?
Because all the possessions from their house had already been removed, the men were left to gut the home. They began the demolition, tearing down walls, ripping out insulation, pulling up carpet and tile. I was given the task of sweeping up the piles of drywall, and within thirty minutes I looked down to see blisters. I hadn’t even taken my camera out at this point. I pulled it out of my bag to find that the lens was completely fogged. The outside temperature was just shy of 100 degrees, the humidity was unreal, and the only airflow inside came from the small box fans we brought.
I stepped on to the street of the neighborhood, almost in disbelief of what I saw. I decided to walk down the street to get some angles I hadn’t yet seen. I walked with my right arm fully bent, camera at chin level... ready to capture anything. And then my eyes caught the most difficult sight I had yet seen. A husband and his wife sitting in lawn chairs outside of their ruined home in the heat of the day, just watching me. What was going through their mind? Did they think I was there to exploit their tragedy? Did they see me as an outsider who was there to benefit from their loss? Immediately I dropped my camera to my side as a sign of surrender. Out of obedience to the spirit, I lifted my left hand a few inches and began audibly praying. I spoke blessings over their street. I prayed over their community. I spoke life and restoration over all that was broken. It wasn’t that it was my land to pray over necessarily, but in the moment I felt a strong need to intercede... to let that couple know that I was not against them, that I was for them. That I wasn’t there to gawk at their circumstances, but to join in the effort towards restoration. That I didn’t want to capitalize on their loss, but was there with a pure heart and faith to believe their community can be more than overcomers, that they can prosper again. I found my peace. And from that moment on, I no longer felt condemnation or doubt when photographing the aftermath of the flood.
We left that site feeling accomplished. We set out to site number two, where a lunch break awaited us. A crew from Pensacola Florida (from here on out referred to as The Green Egg Crew), set up a tent along with their Green Eggs and spent their days handing out free meals and refreshments to the local community. In total they served over 600 meals among volunteers and community members alike over the span of two days. It was delicious, and very much needed fuel for the hard work ahead.
The next site was most difficult for me. We were in a low income neighborhood, working on a three bedroom one, bathroom home. It wasn’t in very good condition prior to the flood. Only one individual living there seemed to be aware that they were hoarding possessions they did not need, and keeping possessions that were likely contaminated and dangerous. The others were just worried about their things. Unlike the previous home, the possessions were not fully removed. I can’t stress enough what a difference this made. Consider this: the floodwater receded TWO WEEKS prior. These people simply didn’t have the manpower to do the work on their own to clear the home out, and if I’m honest with myself I am not sure they had the desire. Cluttered would be an understatement. It was overwhelming. I can only imagine how overwhelmed they must have been. The residents sat outside in the shade of the Louisiana heat appearing exhausted and almost numb, and rested while the full crew (about nineteen) took over efforts.
Delyn and I were assigned the task of moving the dishes from the sink and lower cabinets into a couple of plastic bins. But there were a few complications: 1) The dishes in the sink were dirty, and sitting in putrid water. 2) The kitchen was infested with roaches, some of which were coming up from the sink beneath me. and 3) The lower cabinets were hosting stagnant flood water which rotted the wood and reeked of mildew. As a woman, there was no way I was going to simply transfer these dishes over. Unfortunately, the residents were opposed to throwing such possessions away, and despite contamination could not part with many items. With a face mask and plastic gloves, I began washing the dishes in hot water and drying them with a single towel provided by the owner. There was no dish soap. And although I couldn’t properly disinfect the dishes, I washed the moldy water off of them, cleared the nasty goop from them, and made sure they were as dry as possible. Despite my mask, I had a difficult time subduing the natural urge to vomit. It was not just the fault of the owners, but the flood. It left behind a trail of vengeance. When I finally finished the task, I stepped outside to remove my mask and breathe in fresher air. I had snot dripping down my face at that point, for reasons I can’t even understand, my eyes were watering beyond control, I felt nauseous beyond belief, and my throat remained fully coated with saliva as if ready to expel the contents of my stomach at any moment. From that point forward, I remained outside of the house the majority of the time, passing out waters to the men who were working diligently, and spoke with the homeowner about their experiences, their plans, and their needs. I have to point out that I was amazed by how these men and women served-- they didn’t take any shortcuts, they didn’t waste time complaining, and they didn’t slack on the jobs where they felt less appreciated. They worked hard no matter who they worked for. It was extremely encouraging. I watched as the men finished up their work, and three of the individuals retreated to the sanctuary of their bedrooms. Their rooms were gutted, lacking air conditioning, and full of clutter. But it was still their safe place, their own place. What I walked away from at this house was the revelation that we all have clutter in our lives that we can afford to part with. There is no reason for us to hold onto the shackles of possessions that are harming us or keeping us prisoner to things. If you could join in with me prayers over this family-- for the financial resources, physical aid, and personal drive to rebuild moving forward.
DAY 2
Our crew was in for a surprise at the third job-site. We were told that we would be assisting a woman who lived alone in a trailer that was elevated on 13 foot stilts. It was expected to be a quick job... we were simply removing the carpet and flooring. It wasn’t until the men assessed the damage that they realized that this trailer was in serious need of help. Keep in mind that it was situated THIRTEEN FEET above ground. The owner, Ms. Cindy, is 74-years-old and lives alone. She is an amazing, brave woman. This wasn’t her first experience with flooding in Louisiana, although it was the first flooding experience for the other three homes we assisted. In 1983, her home (closer to the river at that time) was flooded, and she lost everything. By moving inland, and building her next home on thirteen foot stilts, she was doing everything she believed was necessary to escape the possibility of another disaster. Unfortunately for Ms. Cindy, this flood was relentless. She stayed at her home until an airboat came to rescue her, and left with only a small bag that her son convinced her to pack the week prior. They made their way across the street to rescue her 94-year-old neighbor, and she has been staying in a hotel for about $500/week ever since. Consider that financial burden, would you?
The crew worked harder than I’d seen them work at this site. Boy, was it hot and humid. They not only tore up the flooring, despite the collapsing floors but removed an unbelievable amount of insulation, all sponging every bit of flood water it could hold, and plywood from underneath the trailer. We piled the rubble on a huge pool tarp, and were able to pull away two full loads of decayed wood, soaked insulation, and molded flooring. In a matter of about three hours, the job was finished. Ms. Cindy repeatedly reminded us that her niece told her to ask the church to bless her house. Blessings were poured out over this woman, her home, her community, and her life. Would you join me in prayers over this brave woman? Specifically I’d like to pray over support pouring into her life, encouragement, and a sense of undeniable community that loves her, supports her, and will be faithful to declare that whatever she puts her hands to will prosper. Ms. Cindy asked me if things could ever be normal again. I am believing that she will come out of this stronger than before.
After this site, our crew was physically exhausted. We met the Green Egg Crew for another meal to sustain us through the last job. We were nearly silent on the car ride over to the last site. We knew that we were there to serve, and we were happy to do so, but the toll that the work and the surroundings can take on you seemed inevitable. The last site was a three bedroom, two bathroom home. The possessions were primarily removed from the home by the woman who lived there and her grandchildren. Even her great-granddaughter (only a few years old) was present when we arrived. The women were assigned the task of removing the rest of the belongings from the rooms/closets, while the men began a serious demolition. We knew we only had a few hours, and they didn’t waste any time.
After finishing the removal of items, I walked into the kitchen to find the homeowner attempting to pack the kitchen, and on the verge of what appeared to be a panic attack. She was very short of breath, appearing to be gasping for shallow breaths. I immediately asked her if she had been drinking water, or had taken a break recently. She refused a break, not wanting to rest while the men worked. I smiled, and reassured her that the men had seen me take many breaks-- that I just couldn’t keep up with them sometimes, and that they were supportive of me nonetheless. That’s how the body of Christ works. We each have our roles, and encourage one another accordingly. “Come on, let’s take a break together. I could use the rest. Let’s sit down for a few minutes,” I urged. Luckily she obliged. Her grandson informed me that she was rather stubborn, that he could never get her to take a break, but that she had a heart condition and needed to take it easy from all the stress and physical exertion. We finished our jobs, and although we weren’t able to complete the work at that site due to time constraints and other limitations, the homeowner was extremely grateful. In a matter of an hour and a half, those men demo’d three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a dining room, and a living room. As we said our goodbyes, I asked the woman to make me one promise. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself, okay? These children need you. They need you to be healthy. Just remember it’s okay to rest.” I hugged her granddaughter, and spoke over her the provision that my own mother always speaks to my husband, “Promise to take care of her, alright?”. She nodded her head and smiled.
We piled in our trucks, sweating profusely, likely dehydrated, and exhausted. But thankful.
We left Baton Rouge later that evening feeling hopeful for its restoration, but knowing that there is indeed a long road ahead. We saw firsthand how many families need support moving forward. In addition to the prayer requests, and ongoing intercession you can aid with, financial help is a large part of how we can help beyond the temporary needs. I’ve included a list of sources below where donations can be made that I have gathered from media sources. Whether you feel more comfortable teaming with a nationwide effort (American Red Cross), a Louisiana effort (United Way Southeast Louisiana), or a local effort (your church, my church, any trusted source that will get the finances where they are supposed to go) I encourage you to give. They’ve lost it all. But we can give them hope.
I’ll end this by giving thanks for restoration. I serve a God who has the power to redeem all things. I saw the body of Christ come together to lift up a community that was hurting. I spent a week surrounded by devastation, but encouraged by the positivity around me. I witnessed the power of being plugged into a local church, and seeing what it looks like to have a community to take care of your physical and spiritual needs. And I received many important reminders of why we store up our treasures in heaven. I’ve always been told that you can’t take anything with you to heaven, but a friend’s quote recently struck me, stating, “Invest in people, in the end, it’s the only thing you can take to heaven”.
American Red Cross
https://www.redcross.org/donate/donationcampname=genericflood&campmedium=aspot_titlebar_floodrelief
United Way Southeast Louisiana
https://www.unitedwaysela.org/civicrm/contribute/transact?reset=1&id=18
Baton Rouge Area Foundation
http://www.braf.org/louisiana-flood-relief
Keypoint Church- Our local church has a secure-give option to donate specifically to the flood relief.
https://keypointchurch.securegive.com/SG/WebOnline/Transaction/Instant?transactionType=Donation