I don’t have far to travel in the hallways of my memory to that special yet trying month spent in the Gulf Coast. I can still feel that nervousness; those butterflies of excitement and anxiety, buzzing around in the pit of my stomach the night before we left. At the time, thirty days seemed like a long time to be away from my home, family, and friends but then I thought, what about those who have been away from their homes, their families, and their friends for almost six months now? What about those who no longer have a home or devastatingly a family to return to? Thirty days of my life was the least I could give and I would again.

It was hard not to feel saddened while driving the now nameless streets of Slidell, Louisiana. Homes were nothing but standing wreckage. Clothes, drapes and blankets hung randomly in the trees, weighed down by muck and mud. Front yards became dumps of the lives and memories of the residents who once lived there, and the wildlife had all but disappeared. I felt like I was entering a war zone. I felt the pain and frustration that still loomed in the air but, most of all I felt the need to help, to serve, and to make a difference. That’s what AmeriCorps does and I am proud to be a member of such a noble and upstanding organization. But even more so, I am proud to be an American who was given the opportunity to help my fellow Americans in a time of tragedy and such utter devastation. I would not have had that opportunity if not for AmeriCorps.

Our assignment was to temporarily repair damaged roofs by means of blue tarps. At first, I was confused as to why we were working on these homes with no one living in them but then it dawned on me. What would be left to come home to without a functioning roof? We worked long, hard days from sunrise to sunset, wrapping as many roofs as we could. The work, the heat, and the smells were sometimes grueling, but at the end of each day you felt your accomplishments and whether you were told or not, you knew you were appreciated. However, the most satisfying was meeting the residents and listening to their stories.

Sharon is a single, middle-aged woman with more faith and determination then riches in this world. She like many others in the Gulf Coast had little to no money to leave the area and was forced to stay and ride out the storm. That she did, and even took in a fellow Louisianan caught in the chaos with no where to go. Her house held up to five feet of water, her car flooded, and her camera equipment, her career and livelihood, drowned in the rushing water. As the water subsided, she began to salvage any valuables she could only to find that what she had left had been stolen by the estranged Louisianan who sought refuge in her home. With no home, no insurance, and no money, Sharon had little options and no one to turn to. The American Red Cross made food deliveries but those stopped weeks after the storm. The devastation was wide spread. So she resorted to the only thing she had left, her faith.

Sharon believed that help would come and that, maybe not soon, things would get better. She began cleaning and rebuilding her home, forced to live and sleep in the gutted frame, vulnerable and afraid. Then one day, our team of 17 AmeriCorps members by chance decided to clean up her street, Cumberland. We were able to move boxes for her, clothes, and the hazardous debris strewn about what used to be the front yard. Though it may not seem like much, it was to Sharon. She believed her prayers had been answered and that God had brought us to her.

She shared her tragic story with us as we sat and ate M.R.E’s (Meals Ready to Eat issued by the Army) in her neighbors abandoned driveway. She claimed we touched her heart but I can guarantee she had a greater impact on ours. We were so moved by her courage and strength we began a collection of money for her and unloaded cases of M.R.E’s and water into her shell of a home. Her graciousness and sincerity was so pure and true that, perhaps for the first time, I saw beauty in a place where devastation and destruction reigned. Though the disaster affected a portion of the United States the size of England, God can still hear you and the service and good will of men do not go unnoticed.

• Read More Stories of Service