They loaded up their boats, their gear, their hope. They drove for miles, into darkness, into floodwaters, into heartbreak. These are the kinds of people who don’t ask “Why?” or “What’s in it for me?” They ask, “Who needs help?”
And they showed up—just like they always do.
These brave volunteers, many of whom have full-time jobs, families of their own, and homes that have seen storms too, dropped everything. They came to Texas to search through debris, wade through dangerous currents, hold the hands of strangers, and recover what the flood tried to steal. Not just belongings or structures—but people. Loved ones. Memories. Dignity.
And when one of their teams made a devastating discovery—something no human being should have to witness—they didn’t post pictures. They didn’t speak in detail. They didn’t ask for money, praise, or press.
They asked for prayers.
That was it.
In that quiet plea, they reminded us that even the strongest can break under the weight of what they carry. That even the helpers, the rescuers, the warriors of compassion—need lifting, too.
Now it’s our turn.
To show up for them the way they showed up for us.
To flood them with light.
With gratitude.
With the same selfless love they pour into every rescue.
Let’s answer that call. 🙏
To the Cajun Navy—thank you for your bravery, your heart, and your enduring kindness.
Thank you for giving so much of yourselves in our darkest hours.
May you find comfort, peace, and strength in the days ahead.
We see you. We’re with you. We’ve got you.
If you’ve been touched by their work or moved by their example, leave a message. Send your love. Share a story. Let’s remind these everyday heroes they are not alone.
They came when we needed them.
Now, they need us.
Leave a Reply