Hey everybody! I'm back from my missions trip, and boy do I have a story to tell from it.

        I arrived in Gulfport-Biloxi, Mississippi, on July 22nd, around one in the afternoon. After Jamie picked me up at the airport, we took a drive down the coast to survey the damage. What I saw astonished me! The coast used to be a very, very ritzy, affluent part of town. Huge mansions, historical or otherwise, used to line the beautiful clear blue-green ocean. Palm trees used to stand tall and proud, casinos glittered on barges 500 or 600 feet long out in the bay. Roads, piers, and bridges were strong and well-traveled, taking tourists and residents from one side of the bay to the other. It was the place to be for tourists, high rollers, sun bunnies, and families. 
        On August 29th, 2005, one of the strongest and deadliest hurricanes in history made its third landfall over the border of Louisiana and Mississippi. Hurricane Katrina, a Category 3 hurricane at that time, ravaged the coastline and caused damage for hundreds of miles inland. It lost its hurricane power once it got to Meridian, Mississippi, more than 150 miles inland. The federal disaster declarations covered 90,000 square miles. The effects of Katrina were seen as far north as Ontario, Canada.
        Hancock County, Mississippi, was one of the hardest hit counties in Katrina's path. She caused a thirty-foot storm surge to virtually drown the coast. The casinos on barges out in the bay were picked up by the wave and thrown into houses, buildings, hotels, and anything else in its way. The water and wind stripped the trees of their bark, and the ones that weren't uprooted or killed are to this day bent nearly at a forty-five degree angle away from the ocean. The trees that had their bark stripped away are bare and black, and they stand there limply, waiting to decompose and fall to the ground. The roads, piers, and bridges that stood in the ocean were almost completely washed away.
        When we drove down the coast that day, two years after this devastating storm, I found myself sitting there in utter awe. What used to be clear blue-green water is now a murky gray-blue. When the workers clear away the non-recyclable debris, such as sheetrock, they dump it into the ocean. Since there's just tons and tons of debris, there's nowhere else for them to put it. There's only certain places you can swim there now, since all this debris is causing the ocean to be a health concern. The hurricane washed away much of the beachfront, eliminating a lot of tourism. The piers are now just random poles sticking out of the water, mostly at odd angles, ready to fall over at any time. 
        The huge mansions that used to line the coast are no longer there. When the storm surge hit, it literally picked up the casino barges and obliterated them. All that's left of the homes and businesses are parts of the foundations, some with the address numbers spray-painted on the sides. There's a road that runs right along the coast, and it's still pitted and bumpy from having eroded from the water.
        Other than the casinos, everywhere I looked, probably only about 10% of what I saw was actually rebuilt. There were houses that have been overgrown with weeds and mold, and debris still littered the ground. There were boats in the middle of the forest, and cars in trees, people's belongings still clinging to trees as well. 
        But as much as the "scenery" made my heart hurt, nothing could've prepared me for these kids.
        Christian author, Catherine Ritch Guess, her son Jamie, myself, eight youth from a church in North Carolina, and a few chaperones all worked with about 35 kids (ages 4-11) for five days. "Rudy's Great Gulf Adventure" consisted of crafts for the kids, a T-shirt for them to keep [which everyone signed], games, snacks, lunch, stories, and of course songs. Catherine started the non-profit organization, Rudy and Friends, to help libraries in hurricane-devastated areas restore their stock of books. She goes around selling her Rudy the Red Pig and Kipper the White Squirrel books, also collecting donated books to take to these libraries.
        Anyways, back to the kids. The first day we arrived at the little church where we held this event, I had NO idea what to expect. All I knew was that there were going to be kids. Lots of them. =]
        We set up for the first day, making sure everything was in place on stage, that Catherine had all her books and everything where she needed them to be, that we had all the food prepared. Finally we were ready to start at nine o'clock.
        Once all the kids had arrived, we were busy putting name tags on all of them so we didn't have to shout "Hey you!" When that was finished, we began the chore of getting them all to sit down quietly so we could tell them what we had planned. The first day we played several games, taught them some songs, and then we had lunch. One of the church girls put on the Rudy the Red Pig costume and Catherine read her book to the kids, while Rudy acted it out. That was the day everyone got to have their picture taken with Rudy. We sent the kids home around three, still as bouncy and hyper as when they had come in. The whole day was exhausting, loud, and I was POSITIVE I was never having kids. lol
        We went back to the church that was housing us, our air mattresses all laid out in the sanctuary. We had spaghetti that night, and after that I got ready for bed. I remember thinking "Oh my word, these kids are nothing but sugar-filled bouncy balls. How am I EVER going to make it through the week??" I had to pass through the eating area to get to the sanctuary from the restroom. As I did, I overheard the other adults talking about the kids and the situations they live in. I decided to listen in.
        These kids come from every economical living situation imaginable. The wealthy, middle class, poor, poverty level, you name it, these kids live in it. Or at least they did. Now most of the kids we worked with live in what are called FEMA trailer parks, more specifically the Renaissance Village. Here, it's like a modified prison. There are a couple hundred single-wide, white, plain FEMA trailers that sometimes hold seven or eight people. Not that they're supposed to, but that's what some of the kids live in. One of the boys there told us that he usually sleeps in the closet. There are cops in the village to keep crime down, not that it does much good. These kids are used to people breaking in and stealing what little they've got left. A lot of these kids are FEMA kids, or kids that have either lost their parents to the hurricane itself, or their parents have committed suicide, leaving their children to hopefully be adopted by others down there, sometimes getting five or six kids to a family. These kids have lived through the hurricane, not just been alive when it happened, but actually lived THROUGH it. They've seen their homes destroyed, their families ripped apart, all their belongings just washed away. For two years, their lives have had no sort of order or discipline, most of them haven't even been back to school. How can you go to school if your school isn't there anymore? The Boys and Girls Club seems to be quite popular, a place for the kids to go that is the closest to school as they've been in awhile perhaps.
        I remember the next day looking at the kids in a different light. Even though we weren't allowed to know which kids had lost their parents, we found ourselves treating them all a little more gently, yet a little more firmly, trying to restore a little bit of sanity into their lives. We fed them seconds if they wanted them, knowing that they might not eat tonight. We let them talk to us a little more, knowing that probably no one else wanted to listen to their story. There were a couple of kids that stood out to me, for different reasons.
        Camalynn. This girl was the most precious, sweet, intelligent, caring little six-year-old I'd ever met. She had this dark red, gorgeous curly hair, and those adorable eyes. She always had a smile on her face, even if she was shy. She was smart too. Her vocabulary rivaled many of the adults that were there =]. When she told a story or something, she always focused on the good instead of the bad. One day she was telling Catherine, "We didn't lose EVERYTHING in our house. The bricks stayed there; that was a good thing wasn't it!" To see someone who had lost everything yet still saw the good in it moved me so deeply. At the end of the first day, we all got in a circle and told something we'd learned that day. Camalynn said "I learned that it's okay to be shy even if there's lots of people around."
        Mikayla. She was one of the older ones in our group, probably about ten I think. This girl was a boisterous African-American girl with a love for cooking. She puts peanut butter on EVERYTHING!! =] Even though she was tough to get along with at times, she was such a cool kid. You could really tell that she just wanted someone to sit there and be a friend. Her dream is to be a chef. One of the things that made my heart hurt was the fact that so many of those kids may never get a chance to pursue their God-given dreams.
        Hunter. Hunter was a boy about ten years old, hyper and loving at the same time. This kid captured the hearts of me and one of my worker friends, Megan. He would always want to be around us, would help us out doing different things, and kept talking when he wasn't supposed to. Which was probably why I love him so much =] The whole week he was kind of our buddy, the one to make us laugh and to make us cry.
        The week proceeded with no major catastrophes. We had water balloon races that turned into "get the workers as wet as possible" fights, crafts that made us glue our hands together =], songs that were off-key but beautiful anyway, and journals the kids made that broke your heart. We had these foam sheets that we strung paper in between so the kids would have little writing journals. We told them they could draw or write what happened in the hurricane. I took a couple of pictures of what the kids drew. They were drawing lightning bolts and raindrops, and houses under water, and trees on houses. One little boy drew his house with a tree on it. He told me the tree fell into his bedroom. That was probably the first time that week that I wanted to cry so bad.
        One of the days we took the kids to the beach, to collect seashells and other things to remind them of what happened, and of when we came. We made ice cream sundaes for them when we got back. The next to last day we held a carnival, giving out tickets to the kids that were good, letting them do things to earn tickets, letting them use their tickets to pay for food or drinks or games. We had all kinds of fun games and balloons and prizes for them.
        That evening all the workers went to New Orleans. The devastation there was staggering. You really would think that all the damage happened yesterday with how this place looked. The outskirts of New Orleans was home to houses that were nearly falling down, debris scattered everywhere, mold clinging to houses, abandoned streets with trash strewn everywhere. Lucky for us we got lost in the ghettos (apparently Catherine has a knack for doing that =P) and the damage we saw just made us sit there and stare out the windows. Once we got to the French Quarter things looked much better. The Quarter wasn't nearly as badly damaged and it was business as usual. We walked around for a while and got something to eat (the red beans and rice were the BOMB), then walked down Bourbon Street at ten at night. That was... interesting. There's ten times as much music there as I heard in Nashville, and a heck of a lot more... shall we say... lewdness. Drunk people, high people, half-naked people everywhere. It's like a mini-Mardi Gras all the time. Lots of tourist traps with masks and lewd T-shirts and all kinds of fun stuff [sarcastically speaking]. As we walked back to the bus we saw a few people conducting séances under the trees. I've never really been in a more sin-filled place.
        The next day was our last day with the kids. Catherine had told us beforehand that we couldn't let ourselves cry, because these kids needed us to be strong for them. They had gone out the night before and bought each one of them a unique gift. We had an awards ceremony, giving every kid an award and a gift. It was only a half-day, so we only had until lunch with the kids. After the ceremony we had a snack for the kids and began helping them get their things together that they had made during the week. One by one [or sometimes two by two] the kids left, each hug a little harder than the last. When it came time for Camalynn to leave, she gave me a great big hug and said in that precious voice of hers "You're coming back again, right?" I had to choke down my tears to answer her. "Someday, hopefully." 
        When Hunter's mom showed up, she cried when she was telling us how much it meant to all of them. She said that the kids were happier and calmer when they went home and they looked forward to the next day so much. Hunter came over and told Megan and I how much fun he had, which of course made us want to cry. So we're standing there trying not to bawl and he just grins up at us and goes "Don't cry." This little guy, who's been through more than we could've ever imagined, is telling US not to cry. We hugged him a zillion times and tried to stifle our tears until he left. 
        The church looked so empty after all the kids left. We had a lot of cleanup to take care of, lots of stuff to load back into the bus and van. All of us just kind of milled around quietly, thinking about the past week and how much we were going to miss those kids. We took silent refuge in the fact that for five days, we were able to bring a little love and care and stability into these kids' lives. We were able to show them the love of Christ for a little while, to show them that people do care and are praying for them. It was amazing, yet very ironic, that God had taken me from the Renaissance Hotel in downtown Nashville to the Renaissance Village in Mississippi within a month's time... from singing my songs in Nashville to singing with a group of precious kids who had virtually lost everything. While it was a very sobering experience for me, it still leaves me in awe of God's amazing plan! No one would ever be able to convince me that I was there by chance or luck.
        Once again I realized why I do what I do. It's for them. For all the people out there who are hurting and searching. I'm here to help them see that God is still there no matter what their circumstances, no matter where they are in life... to point them on towards Jesus Christ. He is LORD of all.
        Thanks to everyone who prayed for our group and for your love and support while I was gone. It's great to be back!

Ruth 1:16 Ministry 4 Teens... Becoming Women of Faith Interview

When it all comes down

To me and Him

When all I want's staring me in the face

And it all depends on a whim

Will I turn will I run

Will I run away from my love?

Will the pull be too strong

Am I too weak to carry on

Will I have the guts to say no to myself

To everything that I've wanted and yes to the One

Who gave me those wants

Who gave me those needs

Will I turn my back or fall to my knees

And cry

God

Take me near

Take me far

Take me there to where You are

I don't want a thing

Not a thing but You

So bury all of me

In all of You.

And when that cliff plummets beneath me

And I'm so scared to fall

Will I keep what I think I want to myself

Or will I be able to let go of my all?

When the time comes to make that decision

The choice of whom will I seek

Will I choose my own fickle desires

Or choose the One who chose me?

Will I crumble and sob with my face to the ground

And say "I'm so sorry" or even make a sound

Will that thing that I want still be there when I fall?

Or will God let me down will He even care at all?

Will I cry,

God

Take me near

Take me far

Take me there to where You are

I don't want a thing

Not a thing but You

So bury all of me

In all of You.

Just

Take me near

Take me far

Take me there to where You are

I don't want a thing

Not a thing but You

So bury all of me

Yes bury all of me

Just bury all of me

In all of You.

God I try so hard to let them know

How much You care and how much You've showed

Your love for us through what You've done

But sometimes all I wanna do is run

From the off-beat voices and the despairing hearts

That need You so bad but they don't know where to start

That listen half-heartedly to what I say

And sometimes when I sit here I don't wanna stay

In this place of remorse and this place of denial

They're all in and will be for awhile

Lord You've got the answer

Will You show it to them please

Cuz right now all I want is for this mourning to cease

But I know

That

When my

Heart

Breaks

You'll still care

And when

All

My tears

Fall

Your hand

Will still be there

So take

My

Hand God

And lead

Me on

To where I can truly see

A place of simplicity

And when their hearts are cold and dark

And I have to unfortunately play the part

Of the perfect girl with the perfect life

But they still don't hear

God that's when all I can do is cry

I want them to know and I want them to see

But I wonder if it's enough just for me to be me

Do they need something more? Do they need a bigger life?

Do they need someone without so much strife?

Will you give me the strength to be like You

To say no to Satan and to You be true

God just let me be You to them and all their lives

Don't let them give in to the enemy's lies

But I know

That

When my

Heart

Breaks

You'll still care

And when

All

My tears

Fall

Your hand

Will still be there

So take

My

Hand God

And lead

Me on

To where I can truly see

A place of simplicity

by Christie Gerschutz

And I'm standing in the middle of turmoil and testing

In a storm of my own making

The thunder whispers the voices I hear

"Never, never, who do you think you are?"

My feet are sinking in a pit of shame and second-guessing

Where all Your turns are nothing I expected

Nothing that I want, yet everything I need

The confusion of trying it all my way

And trying and failing til I collapse in fatigue

The rain hits my face and turns into tears

Tears that leave rivers of regrets flowing off my face

The ground under me is my self-reliance

And it crumbles away, leaving me clinging to what's left

Of my false hopes

The world I've made is blown away like chaff

With Your gentle breath

I hear the whispers of strength, the violence of love

And I remember what You are

I gather the doubts and the fears in my hands

And I throw them with fury to You

"Just take them, I can't anymore," I scream

And You fling them to the farthest limits of the universe

Until my cold, broken heart beats again with Your peace

And You let me know that it's all right

And Your time and Your ways are still so oblivious to me

But now my trust is in You, not in my own fake strength

I lift my head and my hands

And You pour Your love like torrents of springtime

On my heart

Until I am healed and my heart beats only for You

And I sing

God You are good

But my tears choke my words

And I simply weep Your praise

But now my tears drift into the rivers of life

You flow to me

Let the river flow and drown me in You.