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On a dreary mid-November morning, I entered Respite for a companion shift. Our community remained without potable water and was still reeling from the impact of Tropical Storm Helene. I gave Lovey (the best emotional support pup) head scratches, checked with Elizabeth to see what needed to be done, and started making breakfast.
For the first hour or two, I cooked in relative silence. Cracked eggs into a big bowl, scrambled, added milk and spices, cooked, plated, grabbed the breakfast sausage, cooked, plated, washed some grapes, put them in bowls. People came in and out as they started their mornings, Chopped playing on the TV in the background.
Then, Old School started getting ready to leave the kitchen. I don’t honestly even remember what I asked him, but he started to share about his life. He did boxing as a young adult, went professional, and had to stop due to heart problems. He and his brothers wanted to be musicians and even put out a CD, but they’re all gone now. So he spent his afternoons after most people left campus playing piano over in the Sanctuary.
Old School shared with me his experience during Helene. He was in a tent, staying in the woods with some people. He felt the host of angels around him protecting him from the trees swaying and cracking above.
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