After the rains - the rainbow

I served the flood victims again yesterday.
Trina Carter and I stopped at Johnnie Griffin's House (no relation) to see how she was doing, and to pray with her.
The difference in her demeanor in a mere 24 hours was amazing!
The previous day we encountered a sad, beaten, numb, how-can-I-go-on-with-life attitude. Rightfully so.
We dug in and helped her, her sister and brother-in-law, and nephew empty water and rotten foods out of the refrigerator. Water from the floods actually filled up the bottom bins!
We emptied cabinets, drawers, threw away her whole 69 years of life, as she stood with her shoulders slumped and tears streaming down her face. We prayed with her as she looked at her deceased husband's chair being dragged to the street to add to the pile of dirt; so intent on telling us how much he loved that chair. As if the chair would miraculously repair itself, dry out and restore itself to its former charm, if only we knew its meaning.
More people from our church arrived and we dragged out mattresses, clothes, papers and memories; working like worker bees as Johnnie's shoulders fell further down. When asked a question about what to do with something, she would look up with apathetic eyes, as if to say, "Help me. I can't make any more decisions. I don't know what to do any more, I don't know how to go on with this challenge life has thrown at me."
Yesterday we drove up to her house with all of the furniture sitting on her front lawn, and people helping to get it ready for storage. Storage for antique furniture that was still wet and damaged, but Johnnie was not ready to part with it yet. She had to try to save as many pieces from her before-the-flood life as she could.
But there was something different. As we approached Johnnie who had a cell to her ear, she spotted us and her eyes lit up.
"I have to go. My friends are here."
In that short span of time, amidst tragedy, we had become friends. Now Trina and I had tears in our eyes.
Johnnie grabbed our hands and pulled us into the house. The empty house - devoid of any furniture, carpet, signs that love had lived there; a house that had only water on the floor and memories removed.
But Johnnie. Her eyes sparkled.
When Trina and I and our teams had left the day before, two more teams from our church moved in. They did not leave until they completed the big task in front of them. They gave to Johnnie more than her heart could comprehend. They gave Johnnie hope and love.
She bubbled how the Journey church took care of her, that God cleaned out her house. She told us about her belongings, the people, the National Guard. But mostly she talked about the giving, the love. She talked about hope. Given by people she had never met. People who gave so unselfishly, because they cared for a hurting heart.
'Jesus with skin'.
Johnnie. Hope. Working side-by-side amidst the sludge and sewage. Aching legs. Burning eyes. Breaking hearts.
And then from a woman we had met the day before, "I have to go. My friends are here.
That made every ache worth it!