The hope in that sign made me cry.
There are no street signs in Chalmette. There are make-shift cardboard signs nailed to telephone poles.
Driving to Hopeview we had to navigate through a neighborhood. Many front yards held FEMA trailers. Most of the neighborhood was deserted. But the thing that struck me the hardest was the juxtaposition of new, renovated houses with gutted, vine-infested ones. On the same street they were co-mingled as if that were perfectly normal. And the consensus between us was that we were seeing the difference between those who had the means and resources to re-build and those who didn't.
It humbled me because if it came to my neighborhood - my family would probably fall into the category of those who don't.
Sunday morning we met for church in Chalmette High School's gym. Our four groups (who had come to work) comprised most of the congregation. There were about 20 other people who made up the pastoral staff, the choir, and the rest of the congregation... There was one visitor who lived locally. Two Chalmette churches were represented: St. Bernard Southern Baptist Church and First Baptist Church Chalmette. The pastor from each church spoke a short message - they're sharing church.
The offering plate was a hard-hat.
I had the opportunity to pray with a couple during the service. I hugged her and whispered in her ear, "You are not alone, and you are not forgotten." That must have been what she needed to hear, because she held me tight and sobbed. And I sobbed just as hard right along with her. It is frustrating when you feel you can't do more. I don't know her name, but I won't forget her face. Her husband looked at me and said "We're holding on. It's all we can do. The Lord is good. Don't forget us."
There were very few times I encountered local residents in our stay. But when asked what we could do for them, all of them answered the same way: "Don't forget us."
I won't be able to.
No comments:
Post a Comment