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Sharon & Marcia in Mississippi

In the Gulf Coast

Tears of gratitude for grace-filled days

Sharon Sanyi discovered “new awareness and gratitude” during St. Paul’s Gulf Coast Mission in January. She writes:

By the last day, most of us were tired, physically and emotionally, and attempting to wrap up our projects for our prospective homeowners. At the last meeting of the St. Paul group the night before, we had had a time to share the poignant stories of Katrina we had been told over the week. The meeting culminated in the sharing of Communion, ending in hugs and tears.

We had thrown ourselves into a week of doing whatever we could to help people recover from huge losses in many cases. Katrina had washed away or blown away their home, personal possessions, and sometimes even their place of employment, so much of their identity.

For those of us at Camp Victor, there were no distractions of the phone, mail, TV, family, groceries, or planning meals; just an atmosphere of listening, caring, and attempting to help. Many times it was emotionally intense. Some of us were trying to finish Yancey’s book [for All St. Paul Reads] or journal in our notebooks in the evening. When that activity went past 10 p.m. (lights out), there were soft flashlights or book lights twinkling from bunks in the silent darkness. At this and many other times, it felt to me like a spiritual retreat coupled with hard work. Working alongside members of the St. Paul family, in whatever job we were given, only heightened the experience.

All that said, on Friday, there was a time during the early afternoon that I could take a break from my task at the house to which I was assigned. I decided to venture with two other ladies from our group into the small downtown area to try to find a small memento from our days on the Mississippi Gulf shore. I settled on having a bracelet strung together with beads and a few small pewter symbols of our time here. I tried to hold back the emotions as I carefully chose those symbols: a starfish as a reminder of attempting to make a difference, a lighthouse as a symbol of hope, and of course, the cross. In retrospect, I should have added a hammer!

When the bracelet was finished, I went back to the shop to pick it up. As the lady was recording the transaction in the cash register, she thanked me again for our efforts on the Gulf, and told me how the people of the region appreciate our work. After all the emotions of the week, I began to choke up as I told her that it was truly our privilege.

There was a younger woman in the store with her three-year-old daughter in tow who had been creating a necklace. She evidently saw that I was trying to contain my tears, and came over to me with the cherub-like curly-haired child. She said in her pleasant Mississippi drawl: “Don’t be sad for us. I thought I was a “Material Girl” (quoting a contemporary pop song), but the Lord through Katrina taught me that I am not. I lived with my husband and three small children in a FEMA trailer for more than seven months while we got our lives together. Without our home or possessions, I learned that I had all I needed: my family and my faith. Katrina pulled this community together and pulled this country together. And, look, you are here! We will all be better for this.”

It was affirmation of what we had witnessed all week. Seventeen months after the worst natural disaster to hit this nation, people emerged with their faith not only intact, but stronger, praising and thanking God and those who came to help. And sometimes they ministered to us who were overcome with emotion at this awesome opportunity we were given. I held together my emotions in the small shop, but tears of gratitude for these grace-filled days flowed as I walked down the small Ocean Springs street back to camp.

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"Let us not be satisfied with just giving money. Money is not enough, money can be got, but they need your hearts to love them. So, spread your love everywhere you go." ~Mother Teresa