Shion Laing remembers the moment Hurricane Melissa arrived with a force that shook her to her core. As she stood inside her friend's home, she watched her car swing from side to side and saw debris whip across the yard. Water pushed through the windows, even the sealed ones, and for a moment she wondered if a tornado was spinning through the rooms. There was nothing left to do but pray.

Shion is a social worker, a Children's Officer, and in the aftermath of the storm she returned to a community that had been upended. Children's homes were destroyed. Mothers with newborns arrived at the hospital in tears, unable to care for their babies. Families with five or more children were left with no roof and no way to cook the food they had. Again and again she met people who had lost everything yet still whispered the same words: "Thank God I'm here."

Shion describes the first week after the hurricane as a steady progression of human emergencies, each requiring clear judgment and compassion. When children's homes were destroyed, "a lot of moving had to happen just to keep children safe," she explains. And when a mother who had given birth just days before Melissa arrived at the hospital, overwhelmed and unable to care for her newborn, Shion's team stepped in: "She brought the baby to the hospital and we had to take the baby into our care… it took a toll and she just broke down."

She also met a mother with five children living temporarily in her cousin's crowded house, a woman trying to hold her family together after losing her roof and her income. "She has five children and no roof over her head and she's not working because she has young babies as well along with her older children, and is just trying to figure it out…," Shion says.

What she saw, again and again, was that even in the harshest circumstances, people held onto gratitude for whatever help reached them. "The one thing most of them say is 'thank God.' 'I have lost everything I have but thank God I am here.'"

"It was not just care packages. It was spiritual food."

Amid that devastation, Shion saw the impact of The Salvation Army's presence. Her father served on an emergency relief team delivering care packages, and she shared some of those packages with people in her own community. She saw that the help extended beyond food.

The church in Savanna La Mar - the only building in the immediate area left largely intact, aside from a few missing tiles - opened its doors to walk-ins needing clothing, meals, comfort, or simply a place to sit and breathe. "It was not care for the food stuff but also spiritual food," she says. As the weeks passed, she watched congregations grow with new faces seeking connection, reassurance, and hope.

She also had to rebuild her own life. "Imagine you are trying to pick up the pieces and having to go back to work to attend to someone else's need when you yourself are not in the best frame of mind," she says. "Work was the furthest thing from my mind." Still, she kept going, believing that even a small measure of faith - "faith the size of a mustard seed" - was enough to steady both her steps and the steps of those she cared for.

Renewed Faith

Today, Shion says the spiritual rebuilding has been just as important as the physical one. The first small service after the hurricane gathered only ten or fifteen people and was intimate by design. People spoke about what they had experienced. They connected the facts of those days to a faith that could hold them without denying the difficulty. As some power and water returned in Savanna La Mar and the weeks passed, the gatherings grew. People came who had never entered the church before, reaching out for God in crisis and finding someone reaching back.

"Each week the numbers grew. And last week when I came to church I smiled because there were a lot of people at church. The hurricane really pushed a lot of people to The Salvation Army and I'm grateful for that."

Dedicated Emotional and Spiritual Care

The Salvation Army's response in Savanna La Mar has been both life-saving and life sustaining. There were care packages to distribute, meals to serve, and clothing to hand out. There were also people who needed time, conversation, and a place where they could sit without being rushed. The church stayed open, and worship resumed even before all basic services were restored. People were welcomed, known by name, and not turned away.

Immediately following the hurricane, The Salvation Army deployed dedicated Emotional and Spiritual Care personnel to support survivors coping with the psychological impact of Hurricane Melissa. Responders provided direct emotional and spiritual support in communities where homes, livelihoods, and routines had been disrupted. This work ran alongside emergency distributions of food, water, and hygiene supplies, giving residents structured support as they managed stress, loss, and the strain of prolonged recovery.

In the weeks after the storm, Shion saw how spiritual support gave people something steady when almost everything else had been taken. The church stayed open. People came, talked, prayed, and sat with one another. It was simple, consistent help. And for many, the words they heard there mattered as much as any care package.

"No weapon formed against you shall prosper. Hurricane Melissa will be the weapon, but it didn't. You have life."

That belief, she says, helped her take the next step and helped others do the same.