Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to HIm be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen. (Ephesians 3: 20-21) 

On October 12, 2022, Sara Victoria Christiansen and David Robert Olson had a divine appointment to meet on a Hurricane Ian disaster relief bus while serving Christ through Samaritan’s Purse (SP). What began as an act of total surrender has blossomed into a love story to span the ages.   

As described in my earlier SP blogs, I began serving in Fort Myers, FL, on Sunday, October 9. When members of the Beyond The Storm (BTS) team sat down for dinner at my table, the wheels of God’s destiny began turning. After joining this group for their post-meal Bible study, I felt an immediate sense of belonging. While I couldn’t join their group immediately, on Wednesday, I felt compelled to do so. After receiving permission to change teams from the central on-site coordinator, I had to secure the same from both my current team leader and BTS. Granted this approval, I moved to their SP box truck – number 7 – for our preliminary pre-work assignments and circle-up prayer time of blessings on our day.   

The BTS team is self-sufficient. They arrive at SP disaster relief events as a pre-formed unit out of Seminole, FL. No additional help is needed. My acceptance into this group was purposeful and significant. I was thrilled and excited to become part of their ministry.   

During circle-up time, the BTS team leader, Ken, advised the group that they had two new members that day – me and David. David had just arrived in Fort Myers, having driven down from Virginia Beach, VA, to start his SP journey that day. We all cheered when Ken announced that David had 38 years of general contracting experience. He’s exactly what we need today, I thought. What a blessing to have him on our team!  

As always that morning, I packed extra food in my lunch bag to share however and whenever God allowed. On my first day, I shared my meal with two homeless men sitting on the street outside our base camp. On day two, homeowner Mary granted me the blessing of dividing my lunch with her. On day three, God had dramatically different plans.   

After storing my lunch bag in the BTS refrigerator, I advised David to do the same.   

“I don’t have lunch,” David replied.  

“Didn’t you make one before breakfast this morning?” I inquired.   

“I just got here,” David said.   

“That’s okay,” I replied. “I always pack extra, so we’ll share.” Smiling, I moved forward on the bus to sit with the ladies and celebrate the blessing of joining this group.   

Later that morning, I found David to split my sandwich and a few snacks with him. We ate separately and returned to work. Not much was said between the two of us that day.   

On Thursday, day five of my SP deployment – day two with my BTS team – our group was dispatched to the home of Herm and Nancy, whose story I detailed in my previous post, Turning trials into triumphs.   

God allowed me to share more than my lunch with Herm and Nancy that day. I gave them a piece of my heart as we traversed their road to recovery together. I was so pleased to learn that we would return to complete their home’s gut-out on Friday.   

My original plans were to depart Fort Myers on Thursday afternoon, but I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving this God-given work just yet. In consideration of the same, I secured special permission to remain until Friday from both on-site and SP headquarters. I was ecstatic about this extra time to serve.   

During our post-dinner Bible study – a time that I might not have had if I’d left earlier that day – David shared his testimony with our team. As tears filled his eyes, David explained how God’s love had filled him with warmth during a low point in his life. I was immediately struck by the degree of his adoration of our Savior.  

As David explained, he had many God-given talents – including general contracting, acting, and writing. Above and beyond his testimony, I was amazed to hear that David was a writer like me. In fact, David told our group that he was developing a film script he hoped to one day share with the world. His movie would be family-friendly, depicting the journey of a troubled youth struggling to find his place in the world.   

Ray, one of my fellow BTS team members, approached me later that evening with David by his side. Handing me a business card, Ray explained, “This card has a link to David’s film site. If you get a chance, you should check it out.”  

“I will,” I promised, countering by sharing my blog-site address with Ray and David. I knew I would explore David’s site when I returned home. I was excited to learn if his passion for writing matched my own.   

As our group returned to base camp following our work at Herm and Nancy’s, I continued to ponder David’s promise to not only tear down their kitchen wall but also return to restore their home to its pre-flood state. What kind of man would make such a massive commitment as spontaneously as that? I wondered. Is he for real?    

After returning to the church where we were based and sharing goodbyes with our BTS team, David stood up to tell our group that he had something to share. Before joining our group that morning, David asked the supply team if he could have one of the official SP Bibles we distributed to homeowners at each job’s completion. While his request was unusual, David was given a Bible without issue. Our team leader, Ken, commented that even he hadn’t been given one, which made David’s gift all the more special.   

Standing on our bus and hugging his new Bible, David explained that God took him directly to Psalm 31 that morning as we traveled to Herm and Nancy’s house.   

“Turn your ear to me, come quickly to my rescue; be my rock of refuge, a strong fortress to save me. Since you are my rock and my fortress, for the sake of your name lead and guide me.” (V 2-3)  

The joy of these words was evident on David’s face as he explained how much this time spent in service meant to him. He asked us to each sign his Bible before departing, as we had with the Bibles given to the homeowners we’d assisted that week. I reached for the Bible quickly, wanting to be the first to sign it for him.   

David was not around for me to say goodbye to initially, but we ran into each other later as I was preparing to begin my return journey home. After hugging, David said “Love you” in departure as we all had to our SP teammates. I returned the same response to him.   

“I’m coming right past Brunswick on my way home, later this weekend,” David explained. “Maybe I could stop by to say ‘Hello’ when I’m close by.”   

“Absolutely,” I said. “That would be great!”   

We exchanged numbers, and I pondered the continuation of our friendship as I drove home that afternoon.   

A few days later, David texted me to let me know he was nearing Brunswick and to ask for my address. “I hope you’re not allergic to cats,” I responded. “I have three, but I’m not a crazy cat lady. I promise!”   

“I love cats,” David replied. “As a matter of fact, my cat is right here with me now.”   

With that admission, David shared a picture of his kitty, Bo – short for Mr. Bojangles – sitting on his lap while David was driving.   

He loves cats? I mused, looking heavenward. And his cat is with him? You’re sending me a cat person who also loves you? Is this man for real?  

What ensued thereafter is too grand, too incredible, and too God-given to detail in one blog post. Our story includes massive wall-breaking, bonding, and communication moments that started as a friendship and ended in David and I becoming mutual soulmates.  

For now, suffice it to say that on December 9, I returned to help David restore Herm and Nancy’s home in FL. December 10 was a beautiful day filled with Christian music, laughter, and love as David and I worked with Rojas, his subcontractor, and Aaron, David’s nephew.   

On December 11, I woke up crying in remembrance of the beauty of our previous day. After hearing me tell him how I never wished such a perfect journey would never end, David shared that he was waiting for me to return to where it all began before asking me a question.   

“You don’t have to answer me now,” David began. “But I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I’ve known that for a long time now, but I wanted to get you back here before asking you. Sara Victoria Christiansen, will you marry me?”   

As tears spilled down my face, I answered without hesitation. “Yes! Yes! Yes! A thousand, million, billion, cazillion times yes!” I replied as we hugged.   

And so, what began as a simple act of surrender to God became my heavenly Father’s return to me of the deepest desire of my heart. I had found a man who could love me as God does. It’s all I’ve ever wanted in life. I always knew God loved me, and that thought has sustained me through incredible trials throughout my lifetime.   

Until now, I wondered if I would ever find God’s love with skin on it. Could someone love me as my heavenly Father does here on earth? My experiences suggested that such a thing could never exist outside of fairy tales and movie plotlines. No one could love me like God does – until David stepped into my world.   

How the angels must have rejoiced on the day David and I met on that bus in Fort Myers. “It’s happening now!” they must have said. “What God planned long ago is taking place today! Finally, their surrender has brought them together!”   

The chances of David and I meeting on that bus – two souls from different states who shouldn’t have been on that team that day were brought together for God’s great purpose. I had jumped through hoops to be permitted to move to the BTS team that didn’t need my help. David was new and could have easily been assigned to another group – even the one I’d just left that was now short one team member. I had also originally planned to depart the next day.   

But God had bigger plans.   

A one-in-a-million-chance encounter on a hurricane relief bus in FL brought two hearts together with a shared lunch, heavy construction work, and a passion for God’s ministry. Neither of us was looking for the other. There was no pretension, and no attempts were made to impress one another. Instead, each of us was focused on performing the hot, messy, physically demanding work God gave us each day.  

But there was always love. It was our mutual love of God, love of service, and love of others that brought us together. God gave us the desires of our hearts through separate acts of surrender to our Savior. Together, we are stronger in service. Together, we are complete in Christ.   

I can’t wait to share more of our God-given love story here, as it is beautiful beyond description.  

For now, I will end with the message that permeates this story. If you fully surrender to God, He can give you the desires of your heart. It may take a lifetime, and the journey may seem endlessly challenging at times.   

But God is always there. He longs to bless you as He has me. My Creator has always been present in my life – holding, healing, guiding, and correcting me. Without God, there would be no David, and I can never thank my Heavenly Father enough for this – His greatest gift to me beyond my salvation.   

For now and forever, as Jesus, Himself told us, “And the greatest of these is love.” (1 Corinthians 13:13)   

Do the skies themselves send down showers? No, it is you, Lord our God. Therefore, our hope is in You, for You are the one who does all this. (Jeremiah 14:22) 

On day five of my Samaritan’s Purse (SP) Fort Myers deployment, our team was dispatched to perform a gut-out in a flooded golf course community. In addition to the massive debris piles, contractor trucks lined both sides of this residential community, and progress through the streets became a challenge to our team bus. While homes in this neighborhood may have been more expensive, the devastation was just as profuse as what I’d witnessed in trailer parks earlier that week.   

Floods are great equalizers. Whether one has a lot or a little, a luxury or mobile home, when all you’ve ever owned is sitting on the curb ruined by water, you’re in nearly the same position as your neighbor. Those with savings may be able to rebuild. Those that do not are forced to wait for Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) assistance to kick in. 

Many mobile homeowners have the added stressor of not knowing if the landowner will even allow them to rebuild. Most don’t “own the dirt.” There is a genuine concern that they will all be kicked out and their dwellings replaced with high-rise condos or luxury homes close to the coast. That fear and sadness were palpable in every house we visited.   

The same can be said when our team arrived at Herm and Nancy’s home. While we were consistently greeted by smiles and gratitude wherever we went, there was also pain lingering below the façade.   

As I walked to the house, a coconut on a nearby sidewalk caught my attention. A team member was hoping to bring one home, so I stopped to examine it for her. Much to my surprise, a medium-sized tilapia corpse remained in the grass, lying next to the coconut. While tilapia is typically a freshwater fish, we were five miles from the coast and any body of water. Above and beyond the flood damage I witnessed earlier in the week, seeing this carcass so far from its natural environment validated the ferocity of Hurricane Ian’s storm surge.   

After passing the piles of water-logged carpet, mattresses, and belongings encompassing 30 feet or more of their front lawn, our team prayed with the homeowners before beginning our work. Once inside, I made a beeline to Nancy, holding her Shih Tzu, Gigi, in her kitchen as the onslaught of workers descended upon her domain.   

“I just wanted to let you know that your home is going to look very different when we’re done with it,” I explained. “We’re going to pull out the doors, doorframes, baseboards, kitchen cabinets, and all the drywall from about four feet down to the floor.  

“It’s also going to get very loud,” I continued, already having to yell above the banging of hammers as the work began. “Gigi might get scared. I wanted to prepare you so you can think about where you might want to go when that happens.”   

“Okay,” replied Nancy, whose eyes had grown enormous.   

“I know it’s a lot, but you’re not alone,” I advised. “We’re here to help however we can.”   

At this, I hugged Nancy. I could feel her crying beneath my embrace. “God loves you,” I said when we parted. “As do we. This is only temporary. Don’t forget that.”   

With that, I moved to the living room to see Herm standing amid all the hustle and bustle of our SP work. I reached out, put my arm around him, and spoke into his ear, hoping he could hear me above the noise. I then provided him with the same description I had just given Nancy. As I looked over at him, all he could say was, “I’ve gotta sit down.”   

“Absolutely,” I said and walked Herm over to his sunroom to find him a place to sit. “It’s going to get even louder as we start to cut the walls out,” I advised. “I just told Nancy that you might want to take Gigi out at some point if it gets any worse.”   

“Okay,” came Herm’s reply. I hugged him and smiled, telling him I needed to get to work but would be close if he needed anything.   

As the demolition continued throughout the morning, I focused on Nancy to ensure she was okay.   

At one point, my work brought me close to where Nancy was being helped by one of SP’s day volunteers. The two were bagging clothing from Nancy’s closet, deciding what could be kept and what needed to go. The water line in her closet stood two feet high, and mold was already starting to grow on the drywall. When my team mate walked away to take a bag to the garage, I swooped in and hugged Nancy, asking her how she was doing.   

Tears filled Nancy’s eyes at my permission to lower her guard.   

“I know it’s hard,” I said. “We don’t always understand why God allows these things to happen, but there’s always a purpose. He will never leave or forsake you. He is right here with you today as are we.”   

“I don’t know how many times I can keep climbing up again,” Nancy said. “I lost my son and daughter, and now all this.”   

Looking into Nancy’s eyes, I told her, “I understand loss. I escaped two abusive marriages, and I know it’s hard to understand why we have to experience hardships. But God uses everything that touches us for His purpose. He doesn’t want any of us to perish. Maybe we have to live through a disaster because our neighbor needed the trauma to bring him closer to God. I’m so sorry you had to experience all of this. Just know there is a purpose, and it won’t be wasted.   

“Remember, you’re not alone,” I repeated. “God and I love you! This is only temporary. God has so much more in store for you! His Word tells us to store our treasures in heaven, where none of this will even be a memory. Keep holding on. God will bring you through this.”   

By then, Nancy’s help had returned, so I hugged her again and returned to work.   

At lunchtime, I found Herm and Nancy in their sunroom and asked them if I could share my meal with them. When Nancy protested, I asked her not to steal my blessing and let me share. She laughingly agreed.   

Before they could change their minds, I rushed to our team bus to grab my brown bag and return. Splitting my sandwich between Herm and Nancy, I opened my peanut butter crackers and sat down on the floor beside them to eat.   

As we divided the rest of my lunch, Nancy told me how Herm had nearly died a few years earlier after suffering multiple heart attacks. Herm showed me the scar on his leg where doctors had removed a vein to repair his heart. “I almost lost him,” said Nancy.  

“But you didn’t,” I responded. “God knew you would need Herm today, and he is here. I want you to start thinking about everything differently if you can. You need to flip your stories over. Instead of thinking about what you’ve endured, turn your thoughts over and look at your challenges as victories.  

“Life is like a quilt,” I explained. “On the underside, everything looks messy and knotted. We can’t tell what’s going on. But one day, we’ll see the other side of the quilt to view the masterpiece God made out of our lives. You need to flip the coin over and turn your trials into triumphs. You should no longer say, look at what I’ve endured, but look at what God brought me through so I can testify about His sustaining grace!” 

As I passed around more food, the tenor of our conversation changed. We all laughed at Gigi’s antics as Nancy asked if I minded if she shared her sandwich half with her beloved pup. “Please do!” I replied. “I’m so happy you have her! Look how God gave her to you at just the right time to help you today. He knew exactly what you needed before you did!”   

I returned to work and later helped Herm go through the clothes in his closet. As we uncovered business cards from his former restaurant in PA, I asked him what he’d serve me for dinner if I visited him. Our conversation became lighter as time passed, and pure joy ensued when Herm found a Halloween wig buried deep on one of his shelves. I asked him if he’d put it on. He did, resulting in peals of laughter, an impromptu photo of the two of us, and photos with other team members as he proudly wore the braided wig through the rest of the house for everyone to see and share in the healing power of laughter.   

Upon inspiration from God, I suggested to Nancy, “Maybe you could tear down the wall in your kitchen. Open floor plans are all the rage. Think of how big and beautiful this space could be.”  

“I like it,” Nancy replied. “I’ll talk to Herm about it.”   

As we returned on day two to assist Herm and Nancy in their home, I reached out to David, who had joined our Beyond The Storm team on the same day I did. We had learned from our leader that David had 38 years of general contracting experience when he was introduced to our group. I asked him if it might be possible to take down the kitchen wall.  

“We could totally do that,” David said.   

“Good,” I replied. “Will you please talk to them about it? It would be great for them to see past what’s happening today and look to the future.”   

“I will,” David promised.  

As work progressed, I realized I was utterly in love with this couple whose kindness and ready smiles had invaded my soul. Finding Nancy that morning, I asked her if she’d talked to Herm about the wall.   

“I did,” Nancy said. “He likes the idea, too.”   

“That’s fantastic,” I replied. “I asked David to come talk to you about it as he’s a general contractor.”   

As we finished our work, I asked David to take my picture on my phone with Herm and Nancy, telling them they were more than welcome to adopt me whenever they wanted. We hugged, and the joy I felt in this experience was beyond compare.   

“David told us that he’s going to come back to help us rebuild,” Nancy told me.   

“And I know someone who’d like to come back to help,” David said, catching my eye.   

“Absolutely,” I said, staring hard at David. Did he really mean this? I wondered. Could God have put such a mission on his heart to return to assist these precious souls and help them move forward? What an incredible thing that would be.   

After signing their SP Bible, we circled up with Herm and Nancy for one last send-off. As we embraced, promises were made as we shared cell phone numbers. “This isn’t good-bye,” I said. “I will be back. I love you both so much!”   

While driving home that afternoon, my heart soared as I thought of all the ways God had filled my soul that past week. I had found community with my fellow SP workers, hope for my pursuit of future chaplaincy training, connection with both the homeowners and our team, closeness to God in serving Him with my whole heart, and joy in complete surrender to my Savior.   

All I did was say, “Here I am, Lord. Send me,” and God filled my soul in return. My week with Samaritan’s Purse forever changed my life. As I’d shared with my fellow SP volunteers the night before, “I’m not sure I can ever take a ‘normal’ vacation again.”   

There is such joy in surrender and even more to this story yet to be told. I will never be the same again. Life is good, but God is great!   

We serve a risen Savior who will always turn our trials into triumphs. We have only to surrender all the pieces of our broken puzzles for our Divine Creator to put us back together again.   

“Our hope is in You, for You are the one who does all this.” (Jeremiah 14:22) 

Author’s note: For those of my readers who know what happened next, no spoilers, please.  

Even so it is not the will of your Father which is in heaven, that one of these little ones should perish. (Matthew 18:14)

On November 19, 2020, a furry gentleman adopted me into his world in complete surrender. On November 27, 2022, I allowed him to return to God.

Rocky Balboa was a precious black and white, long-haired kitty who may have taken his good old sweet time learning to trust me, but once he did, it was full-on devotion. I had seen Rocky around my yard for almost a year, but he’d never let me get close to him. When I first spotted the large dark spot on his left shoulder that didn’t quite match his other markings, I became more interested in him – wondering if it was a large wound. I tried to photograph him and zoom in on the mark but could never be quite sure what I was seeing.

It was while I was attempting to do so that Rocky first became more interested in me. I tried talking to him from afar – tossing treats into the grass to him – but I could never get close. I asked my neighbors about him, and they told me they thought he was blind and deaf – due to his penchant for lying beneath their truck with barely a response when they tried to get him to move. .At the prospect of these additional conditions, my empathy kicked in – big time. I was determined to befriend this little guy. If nothing else, I wanted him to be touched – to experience what love is and to know that he didn’t have to be alone.

Three months later, Rocky surprised me by waiting for me on my porch when I came home from work. As I slowly approached him, he didn’t move, so I ran inside to get some treats to toss. After doing so, I was shocked to see Rocky slowly coming towards me, cautiously venturing over to indulge in the kibble. He was starting to trust me!  

Within a week, Rocky regularly ate on my porch and allowed me to sit with him while he dined. My goal was to let him get used to my presence. It was a long, slow process, but I was determined to show love to this precious orphan. If I could just touch him for a moment, that would make me so happy. He was so skittish I never thought that day would come – until it did.

After weeks of sitting on the cold concrete, barely moving, consistently offering my camaraderie, kind words, and smiling face to this poor soul, one day Rocky gave in. As if a switch clicked inside him, Rocky walked over and sat down within inches of me. Not knowing how he’d react, I slowly reached out, offered my hand, and gently touched his head. That was all it took. Before I knew what was happening, this long-suffering creature climbed into my lap. I barely breathed when he did so but carefully pulled out my phone to take a photo of the milestone. When Rocky finally let me pet him – truly stroke his dirty fur – my heart soared as I marveled at his trust in me. Such a gift.

Despite his earlier reservations, Rocky demonstrated his joy as he began purring at my touch, seemingly unable to get enough of my love. My heart melted, and I was hooked. I had to take him inside.

What I’d long suspected was a shoulder wound was just that – a four by 5-inch, partially scabbed, deep, ugly gouge with leaves stuck in it. I didn’t dare touch it but felt such sympathy, knowing Rocky had carried this injury for at least 4-months: from when I first noticed his discolored shoulder. I suspected he was FIV-positive, like my other adopted kitty, Leo, due to his unhealing wound.

FIV stands for Feline Immunodeficiency Virus. While the disease is rare – affecting only 2-3% of the feline population in the U.S. – it is relatively common amongst Tom cats due to the saliva-to-blood transmission that can occur through a deep bite. While FIV is not the same as Feline Aids, much as HIV is not the same as the Aids virus in humans, it eventually can be – lowering a cat’s ability to combat infections.

A week later, I grabbed Rocky when he came to see me and rushed him inside my garage. He never protested. His vet visit the next day confirmed my earlier presumption.

“Many pet owners choose to euthanize their FIV-positive pets,” the vet explained. “What would you like to do?”

“I already suspected as much,” I replied. “That doesn’t surprise me. I intend to give Rocky all the love he can handle for as long as possible.”

With a freshly cleaned and shaved shoulder, antibiotics were prescribed for a newly neutered Rocky, and the rest is, as they say, history.

While it took a while for Rocky’s shoulder to heal, the fur eventually grew back without any lasting impact. A slow transition into my already two-cat household saw Leo and Rocky become best friends. I often wondered if they were long-lost cousins or even brothers, as their markings were similar, and they got along well.

Rocky didn’t know how to play when he first came inside – but once he learned, he taught Leo and Miss Kitty, my third cat, to wait patiently for our nightly routine of tossing the treats to whoever was “ready.” All it took was my asking, “Okay. Who’s ready?” for all three kitties to assemble in their designated locations to chase, block, and slide across the floor to catch and eat their goodies. The game became so indispensable to our nighttime routine that I had to explain it to my pet sitters. “If you don’t play ‘Ready,'” I insisted, “they’ll sit in their respective starting positions all night, just waiting for you to begin.”

Rocky and Leo were seldom far from each other’s sides over the past two years and often chased each other around the house in regular games of “Tag.” Best friends, if not brothers, to be sure.

It made me so happy to have Rocky jump into my lap, make kitty biscuits and lay down at regular intervals throughout the day. He loved popping his head up during Zoom meetings as I worked from home and consistently high-stepped ahead of me to wait for his dinner to be dispensed. Tail up, head high, he reminded me of a horse in a trotting race with his little black and white pajama markings swinging back and forth as he eagerly anticipated his thrice daily meals.

All that changed when Rocky became sick before my recent Samaritan’s Purse trip to Florida to assist with Hurricane Ian relief work. Regular vomiting ultimately became a diagnosis of intestinal cancer. When his mass disappeared after much prayer, medication, and lots of love, I truly believed God had given me a miracle.

A week later, a vet trip confirmed that Rocky was experiencing kidney failure. Still living up to his namesake, Rocky was a fighter with a heart of gold. His gentle, loving, energetic spirit never failed to charm anyone he met – even the workers in the animal hospital during his final visit. I didn’t want to let him go, but I knew the toxins in his body would eventually cause him to suffer, which I could never allow.

Rocky made my heart smile every day for two years and eight days. The joy he found in being loved changed his spirit and softened his heart even as it did mine.

There’s a part of me in such pain at losing him that I never want to love again. It’s too traumatic. And yet, God’s word tells us that “Above all, [we are to] love one another deeply.” (1 Peter 4:8). I believe that directive includes our animal friends, and I am more than happy to comply.

And yet love often includes heartache – as it did for me today. I take comfort in knowing there will come a time when all sadness, sickness, and death will be no more. How I long for that day. Revelation 21:4 promises, “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

Until then, I look forward to seeing all my dearly departed loved ones – including my dear fur babies – again. “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care.” (Matthew 10:29)

How I miss my sweet Rocky’s contented presence. While I know his life was full of joy these past two years, it’s hard for me to quantify the happiness he brought me in return as he warmed my heart and lap each day.

I thank God for the blessing of Rocky’s unconditional love for as long as I had it.

May we all learn to live and love as adopted children of our heavenly Father just as our adopted fur babies demonstrate their trust and commitment to us.

I became a servant of this gospel by the gift of God’s grace given me through the working of his power. (Ephesians 3:7)

On the first night of my Samaritan’s Purse (SP) deployment in Fort Myers, FL, I shared my evening meal with five Beyond The Storm (BTS) team members. From my initial interaction with this group, clad in their matching black t-shirts with the BTS logo and Bible verses, I knew this team was exceptional.

One of their members, Ray, started talking to me as soon as he sat down, and I immediately felt I was no longer a stranger in a strange land but welcomed home by family. 

BTS is a disaster relief ministry based out of Seminole, FL. As partners with Samaritan’s Purse, BTS exists to “take the light and hope of Jesus Christ to those in need.” They arrive together in their ministry bus, serve as a team to prep homes for restoration work, and host their own Bible study sessions after the day’s work is complete. I was hooked by one meal and a single Bible study with the group. When they asked me to join them, I didn’t hesitate. After securing permission from SP leadership, I accompanied BTS on their Wednesday deployment. 

Wednesday was day two for BTS to complete demolition work in the home we were assigned to assist. The team’s lead, Ken, asked me to empty the kitchen cabinets while other team members finished their floorboard extraction, drywall cuts, and final clean-up. 

As I later ran a broom through the rooms, one of the young ladies began singing “Great is Thy Faithfulness,” to which the other women in the group and I joined in. Although the moment passed quickly, it reaffirmed my joy in serving alongside other passionate believers. 

While we completed our interior work, Ken moved next door to inquire if the homeowner would like help tarping his damaged roof. The British homeowner, Eric, initially seemed reluctant to accept assistance but eventually granted permission for our team to cover his roof and perform minor exterior debris removal. Hoping to help, I was advised that the situation was under control. I felt like the odd man out – being new, not entirely needed, and struggling to find something to do. 

After the first home was deemed clean, one of the BTS team members, Sarah, volunteered to spray the home’s wall joists with a mold inhibitor called ShockWave. During the chemical application, the rest of us vacated the house. We then moved next door to begin our next assignment. 

“Just walk the yard and pick up debris,” Ken told me. “The homeowner doesn’t really want us to do anything.” 

When I asked if I should remove a garbage bag near the front porch, Ken advised me to leave it alone since we weren’t explicitly asked to touch it. 

After dragging branches and boards to the curb, I began removing storm-blown items from the area near Eric’s front window, purposely allowing him to see what I was doing. While I was doing so, Ken brought Sarah over to spray ShockWave inside the owner’s home. 

“Eric agreed to our interior spray, but I need you to go in with her,” Ken said. “Just let the owner know that you’re there to help move anything she needs you to.” 

SP rules don’t allow women to be in one-on-one situations with men, so I understood the intent and was more than happy to comply. In fact, a conversation with the owner was precisely what I had been missing in the day’s labor. 

Upon entry, I announced my presence to Eric and advised him that I had come to help. Remembering that he was British, I asked Eric where he resided in the UK. After hearing his response, I explained that one of the executives I support in my workplace lives near Windsor, where Queen Elizabeth II had recently been buried. 

“Wasn’t the queen’s funeral incredible?” I asked Eric. “Watching it made me want to research the significance of all those who participated in the ceremony. Every action seemed symbolic.” Eric agreed and appeared to visibly warm at my connection to his country and queen. 

As we chatted further, I learned that Eric and his wife were in England when the storm hit. He later flew to the States to view the storm’s damage to their home. His wife chose to remain in the UK. “We’re not going to rebuild,” he explained. “We’ll just save what we can and sell the house ‘as is.’” 

After moving to the living room, Sarah asked me to move a few pieces of furniture to allow her better access to the walls. The first items I needed to bring out were nested tables. After picking them up, Eric commented that he needed to discard them. “I’ll put those out later,” he said. “I’m not keeping them.”

“I’ll be happy to take them outside for you now,” I told him. “Would you like me to do so?” 

“I don’t want to bother you,” came the reply. 

“It’s no bother at all,” I assured him. “That’s why we’re here – to help!” 

“Alright,” he agreed. 

“If there’s anything else you’d like me to remove, just let me know,” I advised Eric as I moved to the door.

“I think I’m okay,” came the reply.

I smiled and added the tables to the massive pile of debris extending the length of Eric’s lawn on both sides of his driveway. 

When I returned to the house, Eric had a contractor’s bag near the door where he was currently placing discards. “Are these items that you’d like to go out?” I inquired.

“Yes, they can go,” Eric said. 

“That’s great,” I replied. “Whatever you would like me to remove, please just let me know.” 

One bag, one item at a time, Eric consented to my removal of many additional possessions from his living room and kitchen. As other team members saw what I was doing, they came to help. “Can we go in?” they asked.

“Not just yet,” I explained. “The owner has just agreed for me to carry a few things out. Let’s see how he feels about others helping, as well.”

Returning inside, I asked Eric about the bag on the porch.

“Which one?” Eric replied. 

“Would you like to come outside, and see?” I asked. 

“Yes,” Eric said. “I need to know what you’re talking about.” 

Once he was outside, I asked Eric if we could help him remove anything from his garage, as the door was open. “Let me look,” he said. 

As he walked over, Sarah came outside and laid down her ShockWave spray pack. “What can I do?” she asked. 

The two of us joined Eric as he stood gazing into his garage. 

“If you’d like to just point to whatever you’d like us to remove, we’ll be happy to do so,” I explained. 

At this point, Eric walked to the back of his garage and began moving things around. “Well, this is ruined so it can go. And that rug must be trashed but it’s too heavy to move.” 

Turning around, I motioned for some of my male team members to help. “Not for them,” I said. “They can take it out for you. Right guys?” They agreed, each grabbing an end to carry the water-soaked rug to the street. 

One by one, item by item, my team and I slowly emptied almost everything from Eric’s garage.

While shuttling ruined personal effects to the curb, Ken asked if I’d signed Eric’s Bible. Thanking him for the reminder, I advised Eric that I needed to take care of something and would be right back. I then rushed to our truck to sign the Samaritan’s Purse Bible we give to every homeowner we help. 

After returning, I asked Eric if we could assist with anything further. 

“You’ve been a tremendous help,” he said. “I can take it from here.”

At that point, Ken returned with the signed Bible and asked our team to circle up in Eric’s driveway. 

“One of the things we like to do after helping homeowners is present you with a special Bible,” Ken explained. “Each of us have signed it to remind you of our purpose here in sharing God’s love.”

At that point, Eric opened the Bible to see our signatures and began paging through the interior. “My wife will love this,” he said, smiling. 

“We also want to pray with you,” Ken offered. 

“That would be great,” Eric replied. 

After holding hands and praying with Eric, several of our team members engaged with him more, asking about England and telling him we were happy to help. His initial reluctance to let us into his world was completely shattered at this point as he happily inquired about where we all lived and whether we’d ever visited the UK before. 

As we were leaving, Eric again reiterated how much he appreciated our help, noting that he’d enjoy telling his wife about our assistance when he talked to her later. 

After packing our supplies into our SP truck, our team loaded onto our bus and drove down the street to our next destination. Finding a dead-end, we looped around and drove past Eric’s house again to leave his community. 

Looking over to his house, I was delighted to see Eric standing in front of his home, waving demonstrably to our bus. The action made me laugh with joy to see this stoic man demonstrating such exuberant emotions as we drove by. God had allowed us to break through his barriers to let the love of Christ in.

As with my Good Samaritan Moe and the neighbors I met two days prior, only God knows whether any of our words or actions, performed in Christian love and faithfulness, will bring about a change in Eric’s heart to bring him closer to Christ. 

And that’s okay – because God’s the one in the life-changing business. Not me. As Christians, we’re only asked to be Christ’s hands and feet, showing His love and charity to all we encounter.

The rest is up to our heavenly Father. As Franklin Graham said in our SP orientation video, “God will use you in a powerful way to make an eternal difference.” 

May it be so, Lord. Every day. In every possible way.

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.   

You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you. (Isaiah 26:3) 

On the afternoon of the first day of my Hurricane Ian relief deployment in Fort Myers, FL, my fellow Samaritan’s Purse team members and I were sent to another mobile home park in the Iona neighborhood. Like the one I detailed in my last post, this park suffered massive damage from the storm. The rising storm surge ruined what wasn’t wrecked by the winds. Few, if any, homes were spared from the ensuing chaos.   

Like before, rubble lined the streets of this hard-hit community. Unanchored mobile homes were turned on their sides by wind and water. Many anchored homes were split wide-open as if by a giant can opener, allowing passers-by to view straight into disheveled kitchens, living, and sleeping quarters. A pontoon boat stood smashed against one home that had been pushed off its foundation. A minivan rested nose-down in an adjoining lake – its bumper and muffler strewn behind its final destination when waters receded. Another vehicle remained against a lakeside pavilion with the front window smashed in – evidencing the impact of hitting the structure. Everywhere you looked, destruction was evident.   

The homeowner who had requested help was not quite ready for us to assist him when we arrived. Much of his personal belongings remained inside. Emotionally distraught, he only allowed two of our SP workers to enter his home to assess the damage. One of those individuals had opened the homeowner’s refrigerator only to be greeted by such a foul-smelling odor that she ran from the house gagging. Power had been off for 11 days at that point, and the owner hadn’t emptied anything from his fridge. When I entered to help, I wore a mask with Vicks VapoRub on my upper lip to shield me from the remaining odors in the home.   

Even with a crawl space to elevate his house 8-steps up from the street, the floors still had standing water that had to be pushed and shoveled out. After all the appliances were removed – including the fridge, which was now safely duct-taped shut – the drywall needed to be cut 4-feet up from the floor and removed. Before we could complete this work, the owner still had to decide what personal belongings he wanted us to take to his rented storage pod versus what he wanted us to discard. It was a slow process.  

While the owner was making these decisions, I walked next door to talk to the neighbors. The owner there had told me he had just purchased his motor home – sight unseen – on August 23rd. The property where he hoped to spend the winter months was now in ruins. When I asked whether he had flood insurance, he told me he couldn’t insure the house as it was over 20 years old.   

A vehicle rested in front of his home, covered with debris. I commented on the same. “I can see the water inside your car,” I said. “That’s horrible.”   

“That’s not my car,” the homeowner told me. “It floated here.”   

While I was astounded at this revelation, I could believe it after seeing all the wreckage in his neighborhood.   

“Let us know if we can help you,” I told the neighbor, Bob, who came out to introduce himself and his brother-in-law, who was helping him clean out the house.   

“I appreciate that,” Bob said smiling, “but we’re good!”  

That’s when I heard the music emanating from this man’s home. Beautiful music. Christian music. As Mark Schultz sang the lyrics to “I am,” I smiled, too. “I can hear you have the right music on to help you.” Bob agreed.   

“I’ll be praying for you!” I told him. “Never forget that you’re not alone.”  

We chatted for a bit longer before I returned to wait at the original house we had come to help. Our team leader returned to our SP box truck while waiting for permission to enter and do more. Most of our team was lingering outside, just itching to put their hands to work in service for our Savior. As the owner still wasn’t ready for us to enter, I walked back to my car to get my water bottle.   

While returning, something caught my eye, and I looked down to examine it. There, amidst all the chaos, heartache, and uncertainty, a 5-inch painted stone gently nestled against a driveway with the word “Peace” emblazoned upon it. I could only smile at God’s perfect timing, directing me to this message.   

With cars and boats floating down the street in the middle of the storm, I wondered at the rock’s location. There were only three possible explanations, I thought.   

1. The stone had always been there.   

2. The rock had floated there in the storm surge and rested in this location.  

3. Someone had placed the stone there as a blessing.   

When our chaplains arrived, I showed them the rock and commented on how God’s hand of peace presides over everything – even the havoc of a hurricane. The sun was shining, and God had placed us there to help. What could be more reassuring than that?   

The remainder of the day proved to be a hubbub of activity as we helped this homeowner move to the next phase of his recovery. As we clasped hands with him to bring tranquility to the trauma, I remembered the stone. It doesn’t matter how it got there, I thought. What matters is the message God sent me in finding it – and to all the others who will stop, look down, and see our Creator’s silent reassurance in the coming days.   

Our heavenly Father can bring beauty from ashes, peace to pandemonium, and smiles to homeowners who may have lost everything but still remember that God is the great “I Am.”  

 The presence of so many SP volunteers ready to help the hurting souls in this community proved the validity of that statement. I will never forget the privilege my heavenly Father granted me to witness and be part of the same. 

And he answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.” (Luke 10:27) 

While the Peace Corps may say theirs is the toughest job you’ll ever love, I beg to differ. I think that description belongs to Samaritan’s Purse (SP) work.

A little over a week ago, I had the privilege of suiting up, with a few others, to enter a muddy crawl space in 90-degree temps to cut plastic and extract water-soaked subfloor insulation from a storm-damaged home. Additional team members cut and removed drywall above me to gut a house of damage caused by #HurricaneIan. I loved every moment of it! The blessings were unquantifiable.   

On my first official service day, our team was deployed to a hard-hit mobile home park in Fort Myers, FL. Several members of my team had begun working in the home the day before I arrived. We hoped to complete the water-damaged extraction that morning and move to assist another needy homeowner in the afternoon. While I had seen many debris piles along the roads, this was my first chance to walk around and talk to those who had lived through the storm.   

As a relational person, I was encouraged to hear SP leaders tell us to seize every opportunity to remind homeowners and neighbors that God loves them and sent us to help. While I wanted to do the physical work, I was even more excited about being given a directive to share our Creator’s love. That’s why I’m here, I thought. Send me! It didn’t take long for God to place my first connection opportunity before me.  

While preparing to enter the crawl space, I looked over to an adjoining property and spotted a shirtless man brushing his hair while standing outside his home. I waved to him and was greeted by a friendly “Happy Monday” in return. That was enough of an invitation to walk over and introduce myself.   

Moe lived in the concrete garage of a connected mobile home. All around us stood piles of debris – along with a 4.5-foot carved bear. After introducing myself and learning Moe’s name, I commented that I loved his bear. Moe told me it wasn’t his. “It floated here,” he said, smiling.   

“What?” I replied incredulously. “Really? Were you here when the storm hit?”   

Over the next ten minutes, Moe told me his story.   

Everyone thought the storm was going to Tampa, as that’s what all the forecasts predicted. Moe had lived through minor flooding three times before, he explained. He wasn’t worried. The most his home had ever flooded previously was 18-inches. He’d be fine. He wasn’t concerned. He told me he was a veteran and had lived through worse situations.   

And then the waters came.   

When the storm surge reached Moe’s waist, he knew he needed to get himself, his cat, and his neighbors, Bo and Buck, to higher ground. The only thing higher was their landlord’s, Keith’s, mobile home with a crawl space beneath it and steps leading up. Up is good when the waters are rising. The house he was referring to is the one our team was working on.   

Moe wrapped his cat in a towel “to keep him from clawing me to death,” placed him on his shoulder, and forced his way through the increasing current to Keith’s home. After seeing his kitty safe inside, Moe returned for Bo and Buck.   

“Bo was okay,” Moe explained, “but Buck had a heart condition and weighed about 240-lbs. He told us he couldn’t make it and said we should just leave him. I wasn’t going to do that.”   

Moe tried placing his kayak’s life vest on Buck, but it wouldn’t fit. Not one to give up easily, he decided to check a boat sitting on a trailer near Keith’s home for something else to help. He found a towline inside, grabbed it, and returned for Buck.   

“Bo and I tied the rope around Buck, then pushed our way through the current and back to Keith’s house,” Moe explained. “The current was strong by then, but we were able to pull him through.”   

Moe showed me the water line in his home. The brackish floodwaters rose to 7.5-feet high – more than enough to drown cars, animals, and people – which it did.

“You saved his life,” I told Moe. “You were a true Good Samaritan.”

I asked my new friend if he knew the parable that Jesus told.   

“I may have heard it back when I sang in the choir as a youngster,” Moe laughed. “Now I’m sure you need to get back to work.”   

Sensing his desire to end our discussion, I told my new friend that we would be happy to help him if he needed us. He declined, showing me how he’d already gutted his home. I returned to my project but couldn’t stop thinking about Moe’s story.   

After our lunch break, I spotted Moe again and rushed back to speak to him. “I want to make sure you know the story of the Good Samaritan,” I implored. “Let me tell it to you.”   

Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. 31 A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. 32 So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 33 But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. 34 He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. 35 The next day he took out two denarii[c] and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’  

36 “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”  

37 The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”  

Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”

(Luke 10:30-37)

After paraphrasing Jesus’ parable, I explained to Moe that he, like the Good Samaritan in the story, showed great love and compassion to his neighbor – refusing to let anything happen to him and risking his own life to save Buck.   

“Like Samaritan’s Purse,” I explained as I pointed to my shirt, “God had a purpose for you being where you were at the right time to help your neighbors. God saved you so you could save others. You are a real ‘Good Samaritan,’ and I know God has great things in store for you!”   

Moe and I chatted a while longer, and when the SP chaplains arrived later, I sent them over to talk to him further. While Moe didn’t make a confession of faith during our time together, there’s no telling what seeds we planted in his heart and mind that God may convert into his eventual salvation story.   

I spoke to other neighbors that day and learned more about the trauma this community faced. A couple sitting across the street from where we worked didn’t own the house where they were sitting. Their home was destroyed. They were only resting on the porch, watching and waiting for us to complete the work in Keith’s home so they could sleep inside that night. Although we had gutted the house of its flooring, cabinetry, interior doors, and drywall up to 4-feet high, Keith’s elevated property was the only one around that still had a bed, running water, and a flushable toilet.

This couple had been living in their car with their large dog for 11 days since the storm hit. They told me they couldn’t wait to sleep in a bed again. Although I never met Keith, I know that he, too, had proved himself a Good Samaritan – not just to Moe, Bob, and Buck during the storm, but also to this husband and wife during their time of need in the weeks thereafter.

The relief work performed by Samaritan’s Purse volunteers saves homeowners tens of thousands of dollars after natural disasters. More importantly, every homeowner is loved and assisted by volunteers who are passionate about God and dedicated to His service.

Upon completion of all demolition work, homeowners receive a unique leatherbound Samaritan’s Purse copy of the Holy Scripture. We pray over homeowners when we arrive, holding hands and asking God to safeguard all those volunteering in His service.

We pray again at our work’s completion, presenting the Bible to the homeowners that God allowed us to assist. All volunteers sign this gift before the presentation – leaving a lasting reminder of God’s blessings and provision from all those whose hands served Christ in service of these homes.

This 365-degree approach doesn’t just tell homeowners they are loved. SP’s work demonstrates Christ’s love in action through the hands and feet of volunteers from all over the country. This service has the incredible power to encourage those who desperately need hope to move forward. My Good Samaritan, Moe, made a life-changing difference to his neighbors, Bo and Buck. Keith was doing the same. And by following God’s direction, He allowed me to share love, compassion, and grace with a hurting community for His glory.

All it takes is a willing heart to make an eternal difference in the world. We are surrounded by neighbors who need to feel Christ’s love. I can’t wait to do so again!  

Join Good Samaritan Moe and Samaritan’s Purse and contribute to this God-ordained work by following this link. I can attest firsthand to the difference this group is making by bringing help and hope to those in need.   

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” And I said, “Here am I. Send me!” (Isaiah 6:8) 

In my last post, Sleep in the storm, I wrote about how God had spared my area from the wrath of Hurricane Ian. I felt so blessed to be saved from any potential home damage that I wanted to do something to help those who were not as fortunate.   

That’s when the first email from the Billy Graham Evangelism Association hit my inbox. “Deploying the love of Christ to Florida,” the subtitle began. “A Category 4 hurricane that produced a ‘500-year flood’ has left millions of Floridians without power and many without hope.”  

“To help minister to those impacted most,” the mailing continued, “the Billy Graham Rapid Response Team is deploying 20 chaplains to multiple locations in southwest Florida. Their mission: To let them know God has not abandoned them.”  

Ever since I learned about the existence of the BG Rapid Response Team, I’ve felt called to be a chaplain. As a relational person who gravitates to the hurting, this ministry seemed tailor-made for my evangelical beliefs and deep compassion. I’ve kept my eyes on the Samaritan’s Purse (SP) website ever since. I’ve always wanted to assist SP with disaster relief work. Could God have spared me and my home so I could help in such a time as this?   

In checking the SP website, I learned that volunteer opportunities to support hurricane relief work would soon be posted. My mind began moving ahead to the possibility of action. My workplace provides time for staff to volunteer each year. Perhaps I could use those hours in this service. After investigation, I discovered that I had 12 volunteer hours to use for the journey. There were no limits on what organization I could utilize these hours for. Obstacle #1, triumphed.   

I began seriously considering the trip on my birthday. What better way could I celebrate this day than by using my life to serve others? After researching potential relief site locations, I learned that a trip to Fort Myers – the hardest hit FL city – would take me approximately 7-8 driving hours. I can do that, I thought. Obstacle #2, overcome.   

My next challenge was in finding a pet sitter. I’d been looking for over a year, but the rates were so high that I despaired of finding one I could afford. I contacted several, and nothing was coming together.   

Did I really want to drive 7 hours to sleep on an air mattress with total strangers after performing hard labor all day? I wondered. The idea didn’t sound very appealing. Could I even get time off from work on short notice?   

The challenges were mounting up. I could think of countless reasons why such a concept seemed crazy. And yet, I felt compelled to go. In my innermost being, a deep longing existed – telling me that I needed to make this trip. I could feel my heart rate increase at the concept. The idea made me happy.   

Lord, I prayed, if this is Your will, You know the obstacles I am facing. If you want me to go, You’ll have to help me. Clear the way.  

That’s when I found The Pet Nanny. I’d consistently checked my NextDoor app for pet sitters in the area but never saw this business before. I texted the posted number, asking the sitter for her rates. Miraculously, they were exactly what I was hoping for and could afford. Best of all, the Pet Nanny could help me with just a few days’ notice. “You are a God-send,” I told her. “I prayed for God to help me if he wanted me to go on this trip, and that’s when I found you.” Obstacle #3, surmounted.   

The next day, I asked my boss if I could take three and a half days off the following week. I didn’t want to push it. He agreed. Obstacle #4, conquered.   

After that, I began researching cots versus air mattresses and wondered if I could even acquire such a thing on short notice. I found a cot that seemed perfect for me and ordered it. Delivery would come one day before my trip began. Obstacle #5, cleared.  

This was really happening! I could hardly believe it! What started as a simple act of praise for being spared from the storm became a mission trip in just a matter of days. I was more than thrilled to sign SP’s statement of faith, consent to a background check, and begin my preparations. God was taking me on a journey.   

Moving one step further in faith, I boldly used the notification of my trip to send a message to others I work with, announcing my upcoming absence. I included a link in my mailing to the SP Hurricane Ian response site, advising all those I work with that I would perform this service in Jesus’ name.   

The SP website is unabashedly evangelical. I had previously been cautious about announcing my faith in such a woke environment – but no more. Anyone curious about what I was doing or who I was doing it for would have no doubts after visiting the SP website.   

As Samaritan’s Purse President Franklin Graham stated, “The damage is incredible. These people need our prayers and our support. We’re going to need an army of volunteers. Prayerfully consider joining us to help in Jesus’ Name.”  

And that’s precisely what I did! If I’m going, I thought, I want to use this opportunity to testify both in my workplace and in Florida. As I wrote in my Silent No More blog, my days of hiding my faith at work are long gone. As co-workers responded to my mailing, I was more than happy to turn any praise of my service back to my Creator. “This is my opportunity to show the love of God to others who are hurting,” I explained. There can no longer be any doubt of my where my faith rests.   

Thereafter, what began as a three-and-a-half-day trip to Florida became five days of being used by my Savior to sweat more, get dirtier, and work harder than I ever could have imagined – all in the name of Jesus.   

And so began a trip that has changed my heart and soul forever. The spiritual work God allowed me to perform was more important than the physical labor I expended. SP encouraged me to do what I was created for – show love by offering encouragement and support in Jesus’ name. “Every house has a task and a job,” one of our leaders explained. “The task is the house. The job is the homeowner. Share the love of God with them.”   

Every home we visited afforded me a new opportunity to do so. I took it upon myself to complete my task – but more importantly – my job every day. I purposely sought out connections with homeowners, neighbors, and community members wherever we were deployed. God led me to them and gave me the words to say.   

But the blessings didn’t stop there. From the moment I arrived at the SP base camp in Fort Myers, FL, I began talking to Rapid Response Team (RRT) Chaplains. “How did you become a chaplain?” I asked the first one I encountered as she walked me to my shared room. Of course, the next person to join me there was an RRT member. God was determined to surround me with them, so He sent two more to bunk with me. Every day, I sought out and questioned every RRT chaplain I met to ask about their service.   

On day two, two RRT members, Tommi and Paula, prayed over me after hearing how I spoke to all the neighbors. “You should be a chaplain,” Paula declared. I just laughed and told them of my aspirations. At the conclusion of Paula’s prayer, Tommi said, “It’s a done deal. You’ve already begun your journey.” I could only smile, thank her, and pray that her prophecy would come true.   

And so, my mission began. The lessons I learned and the experiences God gave me will take weeks to detail.   

For now, I end with this thought. If you feel led to follow God on a difficult journey outside your comfort zone, to a place far from home, with unquantifiable obstacles, go. Don’t question the prompting. I can fully affirm the grace, provision, and blessings that will follow if you are only willing to say these five simple words: Here am I. Send me! 

You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you. (Isaiah 26: 3) 

A week ago, I began preparing for what many in the media were calling the “Storm of the Century.” Hurricane Ian was forecast to hit Florida’s Tampa Bay area as a category 3 storm, with winds of up to 129 mph or more. After rampaging through FL, storm models showed it heading straight to the coastal region of GA, where I live. With predicted wind gusts of 65 mph through my town, I wasn’t going to take any chances.   

Over the course of several days, I removed all lightweight yard ornamentation – including solar lights, yard decorations, and flags. As hurricane trackers upgraded the storm to a category 4 – with sustained winds of 155 mph – I pulled the shepherd’s hooks from my yard that were holding windchimes and plants. I even laid down my concrete bird bath and blue heron statue. Could winds like that knock down concrete? I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to find out.   

Power outages were expected, so I prepared macaroni salad and egg salad to be eaten cold, if necessary. I recharged all my batteries, got out my battery-operated lantern and weather radio, and began filling jugs of water in anticipation of public water being shut down in the aftermath of the storm. I cleared my screen porch of furniture and knew I couldn’t do anything more – except pray.   

One of my friends advised me to leave. “Nope,” I said. “I’ve evacuated before. I’m staying. God is in control.”   

My boss told me to stay safe. “I’ve done everything I can,” I replied. “I have no fear. It’s in God’s hands.”   

Two days before Ian was expected to make landfall, I photographed the 6-foot-tall canna lilies in my yard with a spectacular sunset behind them. My soul was at peace. Our Creator’s hand is on the weather. I trust Him implicitly.   

And then the winds came. Ian hit Florida with a vengeance – packing 155 mph winds and bringing storm surge and rains that flooded areas from the west coast near Sanibel Island to central Orlando. Homes were swept off their foundations. Palm trees were uprooted. Buildings collapsed as wind, rain, and stormwater swept in from the Gulf and over anything in its path.   

When the storm’s outer bands first hit my area, the 55-mph wind gusts were bending trees and causing general havoc. My power was still on when I went to bed, but I suspected it would be a rough night. I was wrong. I heard nothing overnight and slept like a baby, scarcely remembering that a hurricane was nearing my doorstep.   

When I awakened the following day, I was shocked at the change in the weather. A 20-degree temperature drop was ushered in as the winds continued to hit the coast near me. More importantly, Ian had taken a dramatic turn, moving out to sea through the night. My area would be spared. What’s more, previous forecasts predicted 6-8″ of rain. We received nothing but a gentle watering of less than a quarter inch.   

Some might say Georgians were “lucky.” I know better. We were blessed by the hand of God. Other areas – especially hard-hit Fort Myers, FL – were not so fortunate. With a current death toll of 77 persons in FL and NC, anything could have happened here in GA. We could have been pummeled, but we weren’t. I could have lost everything as others did. Instead, everything I own was spared. I didn’t just sleep through the hurricane; I was protected through it.   

Jesus helped me sleep in the storm.   

Note: The Billy Graham Rapid Response Team has already deployed crisis chaplains to Florida to help residents cope with the devastation that hit their state. Samaritan’s Purse has sent tractor-trailer loads of supplies and equipment to help areas that were hardest hit by the hurricane. Volunteers are working to assist with mudding out houses, tarping roofs, and sharing God’s love through their hands and feet. Please consider donating to help Samaritan’s Purse assist those in need as they recover from the devastating effects of this massive storm.   

But for the grace of God go I – and you.