Shady, tree-lined neighborhoods are a maze of mismatched dinette sets and children’s toys. Stores are de facto shelters, diners and one-stop shops for donations and disaster assistance forms. Times are hard, but one thing has emerged — a wave of community spirit and Christian servanthood as neighbors help neighbors and churches unleash armies of volunteers.
The scope of the devastation is staggering. Houston is the fourth largest city in the nation, bigger than the state of New Jersey with a population of more than 2.3 million within city limits and 6.5 million throughout the metro area. Across the state, Hurricane Harvey affected more than 6.8 million people in 18 counties. As the days pass, the damage and death totals continue to rise. So, too, do the number of volunteers.
Susan Keays stands at the water’s edge and shades her eyes to better see an approaching boat. As she holds her cellphone, verifying an address, she quickly counts heads. One volunteer is missing. This morning, they were strangers. Now, they are a sort of family. She is on Memorial Boulevard, where kayaks and bass boats bob in a river that shouldn’t be. At first, she came to the edge of the flood to save horses. She is staying to save people.
John Whitehead woke to an unfamiliar sight in mid-August — water had breached his house and was rising fast. The Louisiana State University student panicked for a few minutes, facing tough decisions. What should he save and what should he leave behind?
Every day, assessors walk the streets, attempting to find the most vulnerable people with the greatest need. And every day, volunteers don their gloves and get to work, crawling around on a mud-slicked floor or hauling sodden carpet to the curb for trash pickup.
Driving the streets of Baton Rouge, the need is apparent. Life is slowly getting back to normal in some places, but the majority of streets hold deep pockets of pain. In these areas, SBDR volunteers are greeted with smiles, tears and heartfelt gratitude.
