Other than a viola and a French horn, which we played in the local orchestra, we owned nothing but our clothing, toys, a few kitchen items, and an old automobile. We landed with our meager possessions in a God-forsaken tiny town on the Northeastern edge of Montana, a third baby on the way. We tried to see the positive, but it felt bleak and was definitely a step backwards from where we wanted to be.
It turned out to be where He wanted us to be. We met the Lord there.
I’m relating this story not because I would compare my little family’s situation to the tragic situation of the Katrina evacuees in any way other than I do know what it’s like to be the working poor, of which many of the evacuees are, and I do know what it’s like to be unexpectedly uprooted and living somewhere you did not have your heart set on. I am praying for the evacuees who have ended up here in my home state . So far I believe we have a thousand of them and I’ve heard their grateful speeches on television. They are glad they ended up somewhere dry.
I am praying that if they didn’t know the Lord before they got here, that they will meet Him in Arizona. I am praying that their lives will take a turn toward something better than they ever expected, just like mine did. I am praying that they find the life they were meant to lead.
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