Labor Day, by any other name.

In America, Labor Day is the first Monday in September.  Ever since 1894 Labor Day has been a Federal Holiday to recognize the working class people in this country.  It was born in a time when the working class were at odds with the big corporations.  Sound familiar?  In recent years this holiday has taken on new meanings.  When I was a child Labor Day was the time to return to school.  Times have changed and and kids go to school longer and start earlier.  These days Labor Day is mainly known as the official end of Summer.  Even thought the calendar says it's September 22nd.  There are some purist that would say that we've skewed the meaning of Labor Day.  The holiday is not a tribute to the American worker anymore but a tribute to all the fun things you can do on a three day weekend.

The men and women of Bridgepoint Church.

A year ago, Labor Day 2012 took own a whole new meaning in my world.  Last year, Labor Day was when the cavalry arrived to help me and my flooded home.  Over the weekend with the help of my family, we had managed to remove carpet, padding, and loads of furniture directly into the front yard.  I had cut several holes into the sheet-rock and determined that because of the way the walls were insulated, I could get away with gutting the house at the 2 foot mark.  The problem was we were spent.  The amount of work already done along with the lack of sleep and shock of it all was running us ragged.  I needed to gut this house quickly in order to get ahead of the mold and other issues. Bright and early on Monday morning, men, women, teenagers, and children showed up in force.  The entire body of my small church showed up.  Our church was only two and a half months old.  Work started getting done at a blistering pace. It was all the wife and I could do to keep up with directing all the traffic.  It was a welcomed diversion to the mentally draining event and we had to take full advantage of all the help.

My boys and their friends posing in the debris pile.

Labor Day was just that, a day of incredible labor.  In one day, my home had all the sheet-rock cut out up the my two foot mark.  In one day, a house full of destroyed furniture was haul to the highway (I have a thousand foot driveway) and piled eight feet high.  In one day, all the wet insulation was removed.  In one day, all the things that were salvageable were boxed and sealed.  In one day, my home was scrubbed from floor to ceiling with bleach.  These people, who should have been spending their holiday barbecuing with their family, worked all day at my home.  They didn't ask for money, or favors, or demand payback or have any stipulations whatsoever.  They saw a need and they filled it all in one day.  The emotions of the day were overwhelming.  In one day, I started to believe that we could regain our life.  In one day, my faith in human kindness was restored.  In one day, I realized that we were not God forsaken after all. Sadly, it would take many more days to fix my mental state.  But that's still debatable to this day.

Volunteer from North Carolina.

More help would come in the days and weeks that followed.  A church from North Carolina came down here to work on my house for four days without asking for a dime.  Other friends would help with different phases of the repair.  My floor was replaced by a kind soul that was 73 years young.  For 10 weeks we were homeless, but that was a short time compared to others that flooded.  Most would take 3 to 4 months to get back home. And those that waited for the government to fix their lives would wait for 6 months or longer. Our quick return was due to the incredible people that stepped up and bailed us out.

I will never look at Labor Day the same.  And given the chance, I hope you reach out and help someone in their time of need.  The life you change might be your own.  Enjoy your Labor Day!