It could be considered a miracle:

When strangers open their homes to you while you are without shelter;

When food is in abundance and appears ready and waiting seemingly without a moment of preparation;

When you drive past an overgrown eyesore in the morning, and that afternoon, the same eyesore is trimmed up and tidy;

When someone you have known for three days seems like a lifelong friend;

When big city folk can find peace in a small village, unlike any that could be found amongst all of the “advantages” of the big town.

And when 10 college students from well above the Mason-Dixon line give up their spring breaks to come “vacation” in northern Louisiana, that really could be seen as a miracle.

If all of this is true, then Campti, La. certainly was a miraculous place last week. During that time, 10 of us from Saint Louis University traveled 12 hours to a poor town in the southwest corner of the home state of Mardi Gras as a part of the Spring Break Mission Trip Program. We found a place of hard work, hospitality and fine southern cooking. Two thousand people live in a town that used to have caf?s, car dealerships, a movie theater and a proud history. Currently, there are a couple of run-down restaurants, a number of collapsing, abandoned houses and a dog population that rivals the human one.

We went there to assist a priest from Michigan, who had eyes like John Malkovich and the conviction of the early apostles. He is in charge of three small parishes and is nearly single-handedly trying to revive the town’s physical appearance and its residents’ attitudes.

The students cleared brush, cleaned up dilapidated property, assisted with the care of Church grounds and visited the shut-in and sick. All this happened within the framework of a diligent prayer environment that included daily mass. For the students involved, helping those in need came into direct collision with the call and Gospel of Jesus Christ. The students came to give and to serve the people of Campti and ended up walking away much more blessed (and full) than when they arrived. It seemed to many to be a time of being served with unceasing hospitality and love, not just the other way around.

Each day, lunch was served promptly at the midday hour. We would arrive at the Parish Hall to find tray after tray of food laid out, piping hot and deliciously nourishing. Dinner followed work, in similar fashion. The food, of course, took hours of dedicated time from members of the Parish community, and abundant thanks could never express the blessings of those servings provided.

The SLU kids were graciously hosted by the people of Campti and the surrounding areas, and we woke up daily to hot coffee and a fulfilling breakfast. We were saved from nights on a hard hall floor by the beds of people we had met only days, or hours before.

We went into some of the most incredibly dilapidated homes and tore out rotted linoleum, shattered glass, piles of dirt and old abandoned possessions-turned-garbage. They piled the brush that once held the forgotten homes of Campti firmly in their leafy clutches, into mountains of healthy fire material. They flooded the tight quarters of those who go too long without guests, being entertained with stories of Old Campti, and of lives long since past. We cleaned tabernacles, candlesticks and pews till all of the dust of the seasonable Campti winter was vanquished.

In the times when Fr. Dan finally let us rest, we found the peaceful joy of a small town. We enjoyed lounging in the pure sunshine under robin-egg-blue skies. We quietly sipped coffee watching the Louisiana showers fall on the swollen Black Lake. We found a joy that no bustling tourist trap in the Caribbean could offer. We found a place where there was enough serenity to hear the voice of God.

By the time we left seven days after we arrived, the women and men who had made Campti such a comfortable home seemed almost to be like grandparents, aunts and uncles. Tears were shed, as those whom did not know each other just days before reluctantly broke tight embraces. E-mail addresses were exchanged like Mardi Gras beads. And as the students rolled away from this tiny spot on the map, we knew we would never forget Campti, and the miracles that happened there. Many wondered if and when we would return. Others looked toward the campuses that awaited our return with a whole new perspective. All of us vowed to carry a piece of Campti back to the cities, and to the classrooms we had recently fled.

Those memories and blessing would change these men and women forever.