God said, "just go." So I went. Going without a plan wasn't my usual style, but this time I decided that I would take the mental leap and just go ... because God said, "just go." 

After collecting $3,000 from friends and family who wanted to help Hurricane Katrina victims, on October 1, I flew to the Gulf Coast. I was moved immediately by the devastation. The ride from the Pensacola, Fla., airport to my parent's home in Mobile, Ala., was only the beginning of the destruction of the landscape that I would see over the next three weeks. The farther west I traveled, the more intense it became. 

In Gulfport, Miss., I met a group working with Partners Relief, from California. We teamed together to deliver the truckload of supplies they had purchased, bagged and organized the day before.

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Most people in need were those who had very little before the hurricane and even less afterwards. They were in a neighborhood that wasn't close to anything and most of them hadn't been able to leave since the storm. 

We stopped at a clinic in the neighborhood where there were many women and children. We parked the truck and started distributing the supplies. We delivered much needed personal items, baby supplies, food and water to a truly grateful group of people. Many people from the neighborhood walked or drove by to get supplies. The most incredible thing was that even though they had nothing, they were willing to share our supplies with each other.  No one wanted to take more than they needed. 

Many were moms with small children who had just seen doctors at the clinic. They were so thankful to have even a small bag of snacks. With tears and hugs for so many, we stayed there encouraging and talking with them, which is something they said they appreciated as much as the food. They said most other groups who stopped in their area just dropped the supplies and left. No one reached out and touched them.

The following day, with another truckload of supplies, our next adventure was to the Biloxi Regional Medical Center. Again, we brought much needed supplies to anyone in the hospital, including the staff. The director of the hospital told me something that I'll not soon forget. 

As we were getting ready to leave, she said, "Please, don't forget us." She encouraged us to come back in six months and again in 12 months, because they would still be dealing with all of this. This is not a short-term need; these people will be busy trying to put their lives back together for a long time, months if not years. We simply can't forget them. 

Later that day, as I said goodbye to the California group, I realized the blessing they had been in my life over the past two days and the wonderful example they had shown me of how to love others. One woman told me that the most important thing is to "go slow." She repeated that a couple of times, and it echoed in my mind.

Church consultant, Debbie Rendall, helps out with hurricane relief on the Gulf Coast.

I wasn't too sure what God had planned for my next adventure, but after reading the front page of the newspaper a few days in a row and talking with several people, it became clear that a rather extensive shopping trip was next.  Many people reporting about Bayou La Batre, Ala., expressed the need for food. The editorials had pleas for food as well. 

This tiny fishing village was totally wiped out, as was the livelihood of the residents. There are many Vietnamese citizens living in Bayou La Batre, they speak little English and fish for a living. But at the moment, there is nothing to fish for off the coast. They have no work and many of the boats in the harbor were destroyed or washed ashore. 

I enlisted the help of my parents and we spent a day at Sam's Club making a rather large food purchase, packing 94 bags of supplies to be given out and loading them up in the van. The next day we set out for this tiny fishing town to look for the people in need. The words "go slow" were still revolving in my thoughts.

We drove around, but everyone seemed to be fine. Then I noticed a Salvation Army motor home and thought surely they would know who needed food. When I told a woman there that I had a van loaded with food and was looking for anyone who might need it, her mouth dropped open.

With tears in her eyes she said, "We were just talking about where food for the next day was going to come from. We just did not know and were afraid we were going to have to turn people away again." 

I knew when we set out that day that someone who needed it would be helped and that God knew where they were.  We had to "just go" and "go slow."

The next few days I worked in Waveland, Miss. The depth of the humanitarian effort going on there has not been in the news, unfortunately, because this collaboration of churches serving in a completely devastated community should serve as a model, igniting a spirit and energy in other groups to do the same. What a blessing to see what God was doing in Waveland. 

I distributed towels with the Willow Creek Community Church group. It was good to see some friends from home! But every time someone thanked me for a towel I had to fight back tears. For most, this was a new beginning—and it was starting with a towel.

I spent a lot of time talking with survivors who came in for supplies. There were unbelievable stories.

One woman told me that it was like a whirlpool inside her home as the water just poured in around them. They had just enough time to scramble into their attic, and just enough attic space to have a bit of air to breath when the water crested.

One man told me that he had lost his dad, not from the hurricane, but from an accident during the cleanup.

People were tired, just tired.

One family said their house was still standing, but damaged and they were sleeping in a tent in the yard. They were hoping for a FEMA trailer to help them through the rebuilding.

I'm not certain about the adventures that now lie ahead, but I'm excited to find out. All I know is that if I wake up tomorrow and hear God whisper to me, "just go," I'm going for sure.  But I won't go fast. The key to all of this is to go slow.

Debbie Rendall is a licensed and certified church consultant available for consultation in areas of church health, strategic planning, motivation and encouragement. Find contact information on her Web site: www.integratingfocus.com.