Bruised Knees, Hands & Heart

I have spent the last two days on my hands and knees, pulling rusty nails out of a few rooms in the house we're working on this week. Despite my knee pads, my knees are pretty sore & bruised and there are blisters on my thumbs from where I've held the cat's claw and hammer. But the bruises that hurt the most are the ones on my heart.

The tragic stories of unscrupulous contractors, of 70,000 damaged or abandoned homes, of the massive delay for demolition of blighted homes, the rampant criticism and cynicism about the residents of New Orleans have battered my heart in ways I can't fully explain. So, it's a good thing God has kept me on my knees these past two days.

Being in a humbling position with my eyes turned downward led me to pray for every square inch of the house, for every person that would live there and every person who came through the door. After I'd prayed every blessing and protection I could think of, I moved onto the street and the neighborhood, the city's residents and those displaced around the country. To be completely honest, I doubt I would've done that otherwise.

Strangely enough, it turns out I'm glad my heart's still tender enough to be bruised.