I stood at a bus stop this morning in California, dressed for a day at the office. It was about 8am and there was a soft breeze moving the cool air around. I stood with my face to the sun and closed my eyes. I heard birds, the sound of a tractor in the distance and a few cars driving by. It one second I was transported from that curb in California to the edge of the porch at Captain John's house on a cool December morning, with a breeze blowing the cool air around, the sun shining down, birds singing their songs, tractors moving in the distance and cars driving down the highway. I could see the paintbrush in my hand and hear the murmurs of my friends voices as they painted on the other side of the house.
I opened my eyes and looked down, half expecting to see my work boots on my feet.
I'm missing Pearlington today.
The story of one little church's efforts to bring hope and healing to a small town after Hurricane Katrina
