Building Hope 3

After church Sunday, some of the guys and I took a ride through the 9th district to see and understand some of the devastation. It was surreal. The worst part is it's two years later...

We saw where the levy was breached... it takes on new meaning when you can actually see how close those houses stand to it. I can't fathom how those people must have panicked when they realized the wall erected to protect them had failed. The impressions floating around in my head are unruly at best: Water lines on buildings. Spray painted X's on houses. Empty businesses. A strip mall with the front walls missing - inventory where it fell off shelves... a row of shopping carts right where they belong. The smell as we walked closer for pictures... A boarded up fire station. A boarded up US Post Office.
The remnants of a boat in a ditch along the road side.
"Katrina you win." spray-painted on a home.

Chain link fencing. Everywhere. Around FEMA trailer parks.
Around parking lots (so no one dumps there). Around boarded up schools and businesses. (Perhaps it's to keep the homeless out of gutted, moldy buildings. I didn't ask.)

The rest of the world has moved on while St. Bernard Parish is still dealing with Katrina's effects. When faced with tragedy, there is a point when it becomes unhealthy to dwell on what has happened. We need to move forward, lest our perspective becomes narrowed through hyper-focusing on the negative. But as we drove around and viewed devastation after devastation after devastation, I could certainly understand how hopelessness and despair could settle here.

Every corner bears a reminder of some sort. After a week of driving to and from the work site, we never got used to what we were seeing.

I made it my mission to look for signs of hope:
A crucifix attached to a telephone pole.
Spray painted on the fronts of houses:
"We will rebuild."
"We will be back."
An American flag hanging from the window of a demolished home.
The people who stopped at the work site to thank us for what we were doing.
The family who came to the clothing drive armed with what they had to donate - then "shopped" for themselves.
Flowers planted around the front steps of a FEMA trailer.
A Dominos Pizza operating from a trailer.
Flowers planted around the base of trees lining Judge Perez Blvd.

I want to come home and convey to everyone what we experienced here. But at the same time, I feel a strong urge to guard it to my heart.... instead of emptying myself of its impact by sharing it, I feel compelled to protect it and allow it to stoke my remembrance and spur me to continued action.
I feel as though I am cheapening their experience by attempting to condense it to mere words. I have the ability to turn to other subjects and clear my head of the sadness when it threatens to overwhelm me. What would I do if there were no escape?

I've heard many comments about the wisdom of these people choosing to stay in the area, most very negative.
My answer is this:
It is not our job to judge or question or make sense their reasons for wanting to stay and re-build.
It isn't about us.
God sent us to serve.
In whatever capacity we are able.
Period.

P.S. I'm still having pictures developed...more to be added. Stay tuned.

Building Hope 2

We arrived in Chalmette last Saturday afternoon, and the closer we got, the more signs of Katrina were visible. I spotted a make-shift outdoor church ( a large car-port type awning with chairs) with a big sign that read "GOD IS HERE".
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.

Building Hope 1

"''Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit,' says the Lord Almighty." Zech 4:6

Joanna and I are in Chalmette, Louisiana.
We are with one of four church groups serving with Builders For Christ to re-build First Baptist Church Chalmette, which was devastated by Hurricane Katrina in 2005.
http://www.brookwood.org/templates/cusbrookwood/details.asp?id=23756&PID=417946

The week can be summed up into three words: Work. Eat. Sleep.
The project is behind schedule (our schedule, not God's), so many of us aren't doing the work we came prepared to do. It's all about flexibility... I came to hang drywall and I'm framing walls instead.
Most of us are housed at Hopeview - a church building renovated into a volunteer center.
The schedule is pretty straight-forward. We meet downstairs around 6:00 AM and leave for the site about 6:30. We work until 9:00, then head back to Hopeview for breakfast, work until 1:00, head back for lunch and a devotional, work until 6:00, then go back for dinner. The heat has been intense, so we've knocked off early at 4:30 the past couple days to give everyone relief.
Joanna is helping with the kitchen crew because she isn't old enough to be on the site. The food is awesome...big hearty meals - and I don't have to cook them. :o)
I expected to loose a little weight this week, but I don't think it's happening.

It isn't just about the work. We've developed many new relationships and had the opportunity to encourage each other beyond the work we're doing here. We are together all the time - so we have become close pretty quickly. The absence of routine life "stuff" has been nice, too.
Our group is from the Peninsula and two of the other groups are from Norfolk and Chesapeake, so a few of us plan to stay in touch when we leave here.

The work here is very satisfying. It feels good to work hard, sweat hard, and to have something substantial to show for it at the end of the day.
I used to work for my dad in construction and I missed it - but I didn't realize how much I miss it. I love to build. (Yes, Scott, I really love it.)

The thing that has impacted us most of all, is the state of this area and its people. That is a whole different subject...


P.S. Today I dodged a bullet, for real. A stray nail from the nail gun I was using ricocheted off my hand and whizzed past a couple unsuspecting heads as it sailed about 15 feet out the door. I felt it, too. I was sort of afraid to take off my glove. When I did, there was a small dot where the nail had broken skin. That's all. We drew an arrow to the hole in my glove and wrote "God was here" as a reminder.
It's bruised, but I'm not complaining. :o)
That's the second time He's taken a nail in the hand for me...