A pilgrim and a stranger – Samaritan’s Purse Deployment, Part 4

Hear my prayer, Lord, listen to my cry for help; do not be deaf to my weeping.
I dwell with you as a foreigner, a stranger, as all my ancestors were. (Psalm 39:12)

On day two of our Hurricane Ian relief mission in Fort Myers, FL, our Samaritan’s Purse team was deployed to the home of Mary and Isaiah. Isaiah pastored a small family-style church that met in the homes of various congregants. Both he and Mary believed in the providence of God, and their smiling testimony was readily apparent to everyone who worked in their home.   

By all outward appearances, the houses in Mary and Isaiah’s community survived the hurricane unscathed. After all, minimal wind damage was sustained in this particular neighborhood.

However, the massive debris piles that lined this community’s streets told a different story and warned that things aren’t always how they seem.

Water is a formidable opponent. While only a few trees were toppled and structural damage was not immediately evident from the road, Ian’s eight-foot storm surge decimated nearly all the property in homes near the Caloosahatchee River in North Fort Myers.   

Mary began to cry with gratitude as we gathered for our initial circle-up prayer time with her and her husband. I immediately crossed to her to offer a hug, take her and Isaiah’s hands, and tell them that God sent us to help them. “You are not alone,” I said. “Help is not just on the way – it’s here. We are here to remind you that you’re not alone.”   

After praying with Isaiah and Mary, our team began ripping out floors in their guest bedroom. Our original plan was to move anything salvageable to this room while we worked on gutting the remainder of their home. The removal of the first floorboard in this space proved this plan unsustainable.   

Below the wood, four inches of standing water remained 12 days after the flood – the perfect breeding ground for mold to grow in this extensively damaged home. Our new plan was to slice and discard the plastic under the floors, allow the standing water to drain out, remove all doors and appliances, and extricate four feet of drywall – from the foundation up – to prepare the house for eventual restoration.   

While moving recoverable property, I noticed a large canvas print on the wall near the homeowner’s front door. I immediately recognized it as a replica of one I had purchased three years ago. The image depicts the front porch of a seaside dwelling with two oars and a pair of white tennis shoes resting outside the front door.   

I’ve always loved my print. I used to stare at it while I ate my dinner, feeling as if it was a promise of things to come. I will live by the sea one day, I told myself. God will take me there.   

I pulled Mary aside at the first opportunity to convey my thoughts regarding our shared canvas.  

“I have this exact same print in my home,” I told her. “I purchased it three years ago with the hope that I would one day live by the ocean. When I saw your canvas, I could only stop and smile. God knew when I bought my print that I would be here today, standing in your home to help you. I just had to answer His call to get here. We share not just the same print but the same Almighty God. Not one detail of our lives goes unnoticed. He’s in control of everything!” That thought made Mary and me both smile in agreement.   

When our team leader later advised us to take a lunch break, I insisted that Mary share my sandwich and snacks. “It’s my blessing to share,” I told her. “Don’t deprive me of my blessing!” She graciously accepted.  

While we sat laughing and chatting together on folding chairs in her front yard, my new friend told me about a song she remembered her mother singing about a stranger and a pilgrim.   

“How does it go, Mary?” I asked her. “I’ve never heard it.”   

At my invitation, Mary began singing what she remembered of the lyrics as a few of my team members came over to join us. I found the song on YouTube so we could all listen and appreciate the words that were so perfect for our situation.   

“I’m a pilgrim and a stranger, traveling through this wearisome land. I’ve got a home in yonder city (good Lord), and it’s not made by hand.” (Johnny Cash)  

After singing this song, Mary told me how she and her husband had been living in a friend’s spare room since Hurricane Ian hit.   

“My mother always told me to never wear out my welcome,” Mary recounted. “So, after church last Sunday, we told our friends that we were going to find our own meal and give them a break.”

“While we were out,” Mary explained, “I got a phone call from another friend. ‘Mary,’ she said. ‘I found you a place to stay in a condo that belongs to a co-worker. It’ll just be the two of you. You can stay there for a few months.’” 

To this, Mary’s face broke into an even wider grin as she showed me pictures of the peaceful respite God provided to this faithful couple in their precise hour of need.   

“That’s God’s grace,” I told her. “He will always take care of you!”   

At the end of the day, we were all touched by Isaiah and Mary’s faith. What started as a house filled with amassed belongings, water-logged floors, and monumental debris ended as nothing short of a miracle. Through God’s provision, our team of eight quadrupled when a busload of 24 workers from Miami showed up to help in whatever manner we needed them.   

As it turns out, those extra hands and feet were needed by a pilgrim and a stranger that God united through a painting and a shared love of Christ to conquer adversity with a remembered promise. Our real home, God assures us, isn’t made by men’s hands.   

After many hugs, tears, and the gift of a Bible inscribed with the good wishes penned by 32-sets of hands, Mary and Isaiah were encouraged by God to keep moving ahead through faith and trust in Christ. 

While our new friends were fortified by the workers who helped them with their damaged home, Isaiah and Mary strengthened all the volunteers by serving as living reminders that we should always walk by faith rather than sight. After all, we are just pilgrims and strangers – united by Christ and filled with love – traveling through this strange and lovely land.