Dan Emmons, construction team leader, blogs from Kesennuma, Japan.

When we first started to work on Saito San’s house, it was hard to take in all the devastation that surrounded it. The house was located in an area of Kesennuma that had suffered terribly from the tsunami. Not only had the great wave wreaked havoc on the neighborhood, but this house was also within the area that had been set on fire for three days and nights. Gas and diesel from the fuel storage facilities for the fishing and shipping industry had been toppled over by the giant wave, and burst into flames.

When you looked around the neighborhood, you saw stacks of crumpled cars that were burnt beyond recognition, burned out apartment buildings, and empty lots where houses once stood. Just a couple of blocks away was the haunting sight of a huge ship beached alongside a highway over a quarter mile from the bay.

One day during tea time, I asked Saito San and his wife where they were during the tsunami. They said they had been staying on the second floor of their house because they were afraid to leave since their grandchildren might be on their way home from elementary school, and they didn’t want to chance missing them.

Then they told us about that terrible night—the flames that stopped just a block from their house, the explosions from all the propane tanks floating in the burning water, the terrible noises from all the debris swirling around their house in the darkness.

They pointed to an empty lot on one side of their house and said a father and son had perished in a home that was once there. They pointed at a lot on the other side and said a mother and daughter had perished there. Over 20 of their neighbors died that terrible day.

Our little crew of carpenters finished reconstructing Saito San’s home, and as we had a final prayer with them, my mind wandered to the little plot of soil in Saito San’s front yard. Saito San had planted a garden after the tsunami, and it still had daikon radishes and cabbages in the tilled rows.

This garden stuck in my mind more than all the destruction that surrounded it. It was a garden planted with hope. Seeds were tenderly placed in tilled soil in hopes that the earth that had been covered by seawater and destruction would still produce a crop.

My hope is that seeds of faith have been planted in the soil of souls still haunted by the events of that tragic day—seeds that will produce a crop in spite of all the darkness and destruction around it.

Samaritan's Purse , Planted With Hope

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