Lost in my own thoughts as usual, I boarded an elevator to my third-floor hotel room in Port Arthur, Texas.

This time, I wasn’t left alone to ponder which nearby restaurant I would sample for dinner, as a mom and two children shouldering backpacks stepped inside. As the metal door swooshed closed and we started our 30-second ascent, I asked the children how their school day had been. They shyly peeked from behind their mom and didn’t answer.

The mom laughed.

“It was good, but they’re pretty tired,” she said.

I realized then that like so many in Port Arthur, this family was likely one of many without a place to call home. I thought about how exhausting it must be, especially for a small child, to have to return to a hotel room at the end of a long day and not know where your family would find shelter in the days to come.

For the past two weeks, I have worked with the Port Arthur News team to attempt to bridge some of this uncertainty by helping residents on the road to recovery have the information needed to get back to life as normal.

Though the floodwaters are gone and on the outside the city appears to be functioning normally, there are still so many wading through troubled waters. From being forced to live in moldy houses to being stuck in the paperwork limbo of being approved for temporary housing, there is still so much need across southeast Texas.

Thankfully for every resident struggling, it seems someone in the community has stepped up to lend a hand. I continue to be impressed each and every day that I am here at the selflessness of those who care so much about helping others that they have set even their own needs aside.

During my first assignment in Jefferson County, I saw some of these people in action.

Outside of a nondescript brick building, tucked in the shopping center of Market Basket in Nederland, Texas, more than a dozen people were standing patiently in line. The location has been serving as the temporary office for the Salvation Army, after the charitable organization’s former location was set for demolition due to storm damage.

Some in this line needed food, water and cleaning supplies, while others were hoping to start down the road to a more long-term recovery and begin the application process for disaster aid. At the helm of it all are captains Martha and Frankco Higdon.

Martha told me that after the storm, staff members and a group of hardy volunteers went door to door handing out food and supplies to residents. When they were able to acquire a temporary building, they continued to offer the same aid residents could expect at their old location.

For Martha and Frankco it has meant working round the clock since the storm, which mind you is now two months in hindsight. As parents, their children often come to the organization’s temporary building and help out their mom and dad. One of their children even goes down the line of people waiting outside and hands out candy.

The Salvation Army is not the only charitable organization to kick their operation into full throttle post Harvey.

Everywhere I turn, kindness and compassion have not been hard to find in Jefferson County.

Even the Emergency Management agents who barred my entry into the tent shelter that housed residents displaced by the storm were nice. After standing a respectful distance from the shelter for more than an hour, they offered me water and Gatorade as I waited. As a journalist, it is not that uncommon to be kicked out of places from time to time, but no one has ever offered me a cold beverage after doing so.

Though not allowed to enter the tent structure, I had the chance to speak with Steven Stewart, a tent city resident who was just checking out. Stewart lost his home and was forced to live out of a truck for a week, until the shelter opened in mid-September. Despite having to live in the humble tarp-based structure with hundreds of strangers, Stewart was nothing but grateful for a place to lay his head.

As a construction worker, Stewart has been working 60-plus hours a week, helping to rebuild the city, so the shelter allowed him to stay close to work.

Adorning Stewart’s wrists were several colorful wristbands and a FEMA bracelet that gave him entry in and out of the structure. On that day, he would get to remove those bands for good and start the next phase of recovery.

I once was told by a seasoned journalist that sooner or later, everything I write will become just another story. But as I pack up my bags this weekend and head back to Leader Publications in Niles, Michigan, I will think of that family in the elevator, the Salvation Army and so many others who opened up to share what they have been through. This experience was more than an opportunity to garner clips. It has been a lifelong lesson in resiliency and the power that results from coming together in a time of tragedy.

Kelsey Hammon is a reporter for Leader Publications in Niles. She can be reached at kelsey.hammon@leaderpub.com.