This past year has tested me in ways I never expected. After a devastating flood wiped out my apartment, I lost just about everything I owned. In the middle of election season, when the country feels like it’s split down the middle and everyone’s drawn their line in the sand, I got a surprising reminder of what community and God’s light really looks like.
Out of nowhere, a woman I’d never met reached out to me. She didn’t know me at all, but she showed up, ready to help however she could. She was an older Black woman from the Greater Zion Missionary Baptist Church, and from the moment she spoke, it was clear she was on a mission. She wasn’t concerned with labels, politics, or any of the stuff that divides us. To her, I wasn’t a white man or a stranger—I was just someone in need, and she saw me through the eyes of God.
This woman talked to me about reaching out to charities, organizations, and even local government officials for help. She didn’t seem thrilled about the politicians, saying they were too busy campaigning to care for flood victims like us. But for her, that didn’t matter much; she seemed like she was above all that, as though she relied on God more than anyone or anything. There was something powerful about the way she approached life. I got the sense that her faith was a kind of wealth—a type of richness most of us don’t even think about.
In today’s world, we often measure wealth by what we own: the car in the driveway, the size of our house, the brand of our clothes. But to this woman, wealth had nothing to do with any of that. She saw wealth in the way she treated her community, in the way she showed up for people, even strangers, without a second thought. For her, doing God’s work wasn’t a slogan or something she posted online—it was in her every action.
Now, I’ll be real: I’m not necessarily a man of deep faith. I’m not someone who’s always there for every community event. But after losing everything in that flood, I found myself reflecting. I’d lost my father and mother over the years, and that pain stays with me. But then I thought of one of my closest friends who lost three family members in just a few years, her Grandmother her mother, and her father being the most recent—all the people closest to her, taken one by one. My flooded apartment felt like nothing compared to that kind of loss. Sometimes, life puts things in perspective in strange ways.
Losing my things in that flood was a blow, no doubt. But it also broke down a lot of walls I didn’t even know were there. I realized that in the end, everything I lost was just stuff—material things. What’s really worth holding onto is the people around us and the kindness we can offer each other. In a world where everyone’s ready to fight over politics or point out each other’s differences, maybe we could all take a page from that woman’s book and simply show up for each other.
I guess what I’m trying to say is this: sometimes God’s light shines in unexpected places. Sometimes, when everything falls apart, the universe has a way of putting it back together a little bit stronger. And sometimes, wealth isn’t what’s in your bank account or your garage. Real wealth, the kind you can’t lose in a flood or a fire, comes from how you live and how you love.
So to that kind woman who reminded me of what really matters—thank you. And to anyone reading this, I hope we can all find a little more of that light in our own lives, regardless of where we stand or who we vote for. my friends go fund me link is posted below. please help her.
