Two years ago I can say I would have never imagined my house burning to the ground in 8 minutes and losing everything.
In my world, where my middle name is Murphy’s Law & I live in Detroit, I was at a point in my life – a sort of ceiling – where I thought it was the quiet before the beautiful storm of blessing. I was a single mom of three, working hard, sacrificing my happiness, my time and everything for everyone around me.
I would have never imagined being homeless or being so stressed about why this was happening to me on a day to day basis.
I thought if I do my best to do good, then I should get good back.
But when everything happened a year ago – my house burning down – I knew things like that only happened in a utopia. I lost hope – all hope.
The storm didn’t come with fluffy clouds or beautiful rainbows. This storm came with hail the size of basketballs, tsunamis and wind to knock me so far on my butt, I thought I would never get up.
As I sunk to the bottom of the bucket of my life, I would look up and say I’m really never going to see sunshine.
What hope I had I poured into my children because I couldn’t let them see the misery we had gone into. I wanted them to be there, but not stay there and all my prayers would be for them and for what they wanted.
As I [was accepted] and took apart [in] the Habitat Detroit project, I had hope for just my children to see the fruition.
Each time I picked up a hammer, walked the long aisle of the ReStore, trudged down streets to my volunteer assignments or waited for long periods for the bus, I repeatedly told myself my children would be safe, my children would be happy, my children would know what home meant.
Yet as I continued to help paint, cut wood, nail down boards, stock shelves, unpack trucks and so on and on… a new realization came… I was helping someone.
I was helping some unknown person who had been in my shoes, or who was going to be in my shoes. I was helping an organization which did more than just build houses, they built hope, when one felt all hope was gone.
Habitat Detroit is not about hard work, sweat, long hours and muscle strain. Somehow you don’t remember that.
Not when you’re doing something that you know will give something to someone like me…
hope…
Something that’s more powerful than all the tsunamis and hurricanes in the world. More powerful than anything you can ever imagine.
And more priceless than all the riches in all the world.
One tiny mustard seed of hope can give a person the little bit of strength to bench press the universe.
Habitat Detroit gave me back my hope… Habitat Detroit gave me back my utopia.
For my children, I thank you… For my peace of mind, I thank you and most of all, from my heart, I thank you.
I so hope my words have given others who don’t know about the organization an inspiration to help however they can; either by picking up a hammer, volunteering their time or making monetary contributions.
I thank you all who do help in advance. It means a lot you’ve helped this organization that builds not only houses in the community, but hope in people’s hearts.
*Story used by permission from @SylviaHubbard1
