We love the Baptists


The burly boys from the First Baptist Church in Richmond, Virginia, are at the airport warehouse this morning, unloading new dressers and nightstands from a furniture truck that drove all the way from Wisconsin. It’s a trans-American day here. We’re pretty excited because now we have stocked an entire house-worth of new furniture for flood survivors who are just getting back home. And there a lot of them, let me tell you.

I asked one of the chaperones why the church picked Nashville instead of one of the fresher disasters in Alabama or Missouri. One reason, the youth minister is from Nashville. Lucky us. The other reason was, sadly, so true. “There’s always going to be a disaster somewhere,” he said.

We have seemed to have our share this year. Sometimes I wonder if there are enough big-hearted volunteers to go around, to cover all the bases at the next flood or tornado or hurricane. But that’s the wonderful thing about Americans. There are enough of them to go around. Just like on the precise day at the precise time that the 54-foot semi arrived from Wisconsin, the burly boys from Richmond arrived to help.

We love the Baptists

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