7 days - Stuart Whiting

House guttin' time in Biloxi. We meet up with Paul Warren, minister at the Division St COC. Operations appear to be in full swing at their building - several workers on hand and a lot of supplies to distribute. I trust the community will be blessed and the Name will be praised because of their efforts. We spend 30 mins or so getting down some trees behind the church building that suffered in Katrina's 10-ft storm surge. I don't touch the chainsaws. That would be bad. I just push wood around and cut-up with Bennett (an 11 yr. old from Central on the trip with his Dad); I love seeing the joy of youth. Soon, we are following Paul to a house where we will be working for the rest of the day.

I realize where Paul is leading us, the only neighborhood in Biloxi that I can say "Hey, I know this place." Mind you, I've only known it for a grand total of 7 days. The faces awaiting us are familiar, also. This modest home belongs to Fred and Evelyn Bradford. I actually remember 2 out of 3 of those names as I re-introduce myself to them - and maybe I get partial credit for spitting out "Carolyn"? I met them 7 days ago, too. That first encounter was quite unnerving ... "when are you coming to do our house?" - But it wasn't really a question; it was much more like a demand. Well I guess the Lord decided it would be in "7 days." On the 7th day He rested from Creation, but today He chose to set me to work.

Even before finding out that the Bradford's owned this home, I already knew I had an important mission for the day. Near this house lives the only other man I know in Biloxi. I will definitely pay him a visit sometime today. So, during our lunch break several hours later, I dismiss myself and walk 3 doors south along this otherwise anonymous street. There he is, exactly how I had expected to find him - hour upon hour sitting on the patio outside of what remains of his house. A place so dear to him that he even continued to sleep in it several days after he received his FEMA trailer, before it was the least bit inhabitable by any standard. It is now just a shell, 2 x 4's with a roof - I recognize every inch of this residence, we helped gut it last week. His face lights up as he recognizes the orange "Relief Team" shirt coming at him from across the yard ... "Frank, remember me?!" Smiles all around. Certainly, I must have known Frank Brown for longer than 7 days.

I can sense the desperation behind his eyes as we talk about life during the past 10 weeks, but he won't verbalize it. He is unable to wrap his hands around the enormity of what has happened (who can?), and yet he recognizes that it is "His plan." Not Frank's plan ...no, he's using "His" with a capital-H .. The one that describes the Master, as Frank frequently calls Him.

Isn't that faith? When it doesn't make sense to me even to the point of an ongoing disquiet in my inner man, but I trust anyway? In the short time I spend with him, he is visited by 4 different neighbors. Frank is undoubtedly the "rock" in this part of town; the one to turn to for advice and comfort and help. And oh by the way, he is 70-something with no means of transportation, no possessions of any significant monetary value, failing eyesight, and he's pretty sure his heart will give out at any moment. But I had a lot less to offer Frank than he was able to give me. Oh, to be like Frank.

We work hard the rest of the day. I see a change in Evelyn this afternoon. I'm not analyzing her, not looking for it, but it is there nonetheless. She's helping inside now. Sweeping. Talking. Even laughing. This isn't the "hard" woman who put her index finger 3 inches from my face 7 days ago. Maybe she's realizing what prompted us to return?

Might Fred be different, too? I decide it's time for an extra water break, so I can go and sit with Fred. Fred can't help inside. He has a difficult time moving. His legs don't work like they did long ago.

"Was that your son's picture I saw hanging in the hallway?" I knew the answer before he gave it. The standard school photo of a very handsome young man dressed in light blue who was around 9-years old was just about the only thing still on the walls when we had arrived. I had taken great care in removing it and placing it in the "Keep" stack several hours earlier. Unlike almost every other possession this elderly couple owned, it was spared Katrina's wrath - it "lived" a mere 2 inches above the 7 ft. water line that is easy to discern in each of the 5 rooms in the house. Below this line - destruction, black & green mold, damp paneling, mushy insulation, sadness. Above it - undamaged ceilings, spotless crown molding, hope. "What's above my water line?", I wonder to myself.

Yes, I think Fred is warming up to this rag-tag group who has come from far away for the 2nd time. He speaks fondly of his son, “... Mitch was a marine, a good one. Mitch died in his 40's from high-blood pressure problems ... Yes, Mitch had a child, his son is in California with the Air Force ... And I showed you the picture of my 2 Great granddaughters, right? ...”

“No, sir, you haven't” (I think Fred's memory is going the way of his legs, unfortunately).

From his pocket he removes what probably amounts to everything he owns - a wallet stuffed with numerous scraps of paper of various shapes and colors and a lot of paper money (I doubt he has a 401k earning 10% right now or ever has or ever will). He knows where to find what he is looking for .. Destinee wears the adorable Pooh costume while Tiffany has been doomed as the gloomy Eeyore. They are adorable. I'd guess 7 and 4. He turns it over to prove that he got the names right, “... you see, right there, Merry Christmas 2004, Destinee & Tiffany, Little Rock, AR ... but, they're in California now ... their dad's in the Air Force.”

His memory is certainly poor, but I think Fred knows what's above his water line.

I don't know what will happen to these 3 people. I doubt I will ever see them in Biloxi again. The Bradford's have adamantly decided they will move north to Meridian by next Hurricane season. Frank will hold vigil over his kingdom, but even if I were to return to the area at some time in the near future, I have a feeling he'll have passed away by then. He's tough, but the reality of the demanding life he is now enduring coupled with his medical problems will wear on him quickly.
The one truth I do know from my experience with them is that I am a different person - perhaps I am a new Creation after 7 days.

--Stuart