As we rode down the bumpy streets of Loiza, a coastal town in northern Puerto Rico, I asked Edgar, “So is what we’ve experienced so far common?” Edgar is on the construction crew for Techos Pa Mi Gente (TPMG), and he answered in no uncertain terms, “No, not at all. Where we are going next, so we can start planning for the next project, is the common situation.”

Our group in Puerto Rico had been spending the first three days of our trip this past week at a different location in Loiza, putting the finishing touches for a new roof on a hurricane stricken house. The house was in rough shape by our standards, but for the most part, you can imagine the family moving back in with their cookware and children’s toys that afternoon.

What we saw next was a different story.

The house was hollow and devastated. Describing the destruction can only be accomplished in pictures. The roof, gone. The paint, peeling. The tile floor, destroyed. I could not imagine anyone living in this place. Why would someone even bother? Demolish it, and move on.

But the three men from TPMG’s construction crew got right to work. They measured. They sketched. They debated. And, soon enough, a plan was made. They would need 15 trusses and a little bit of concrete work to level it out.

Puerto Rico seems to exist in the most liminal of spaces. Part of the United States, but not a state. US citizens, but with no federal representative nor the right to vote in federal elections. Nine years removed from Hurricane Maria, and yet thousands upon thousands of houses still needing repair, like the one I was standing at in Loiza.

So what do you do when you live in a liminal space? You rally together. You form a community. You ask, “What is needed?” and you do it. Volunteers, staff, and community members rallying together to restore these homes and put a roof over their communities’ heads because it is the right thing to do.

It is in that community that I see the movement and Spirit of God. In the liminal spaces, we find hope and healing in the actions of others, which reflect the grace and love of Christ.

It isn’t just a roof. It is hope.
It isn’t just a hollowed-out structure. It is a home.
It isn’t just inspiring, it’s aspirational.
It isn’t just an island, a territory, or land. It is a community.
By the grace of God, it becomes so.

Grace and Peace,
Bryce