Rebuilding Hope in New Orleans | December 27, 2006–January 3, 2007

The following reflections were written by trip participants.

I went to New Orleans with few expectations–-I’d always loved the city and simply felt called to go. I wasn’t really sure what the situation would be since prior to Mardi Gras, the media had lost interest and so there hadn’t been much new information. And that’s a problem because it feeds incorrect perceptions and leads to complacency. Prior to the trip, people said to me, “Aren’t you a bit late? It’s been 18 months” and “Why should we re-build there, it’s just going to happen again.” I didn’t really have an answer then, but I do now. It’s not too late, because much work remains. And that work is typically for home owners who have few resources to navigate the system on their own and perhaps few assets other than the house that some would choose to demolish. These homeowners simply want to return to their lives as best they can. And so of course we should help them rebuild–-these are people’s homes, this is where they have built their lives, this is not a business decision. They’ve already lost so much–-family pictures, precious heirlooms, basic supplies–-and those losses are still fresh and painful. When I asked one of our homeowners, Miss Ethel, about the pictures in her FEMA trailer, she responded “Oh child, I had so many pictures.” It took three tries to get her to tell me about her daughter who was the subject of the picture. And so yes, it was devastating to take a tour after a hard rain and think that so much damage remained it appeared as if Katrina was just two weeks ago. Yet it was encouraging to see the signs of re-birth: Tyvek wrapped buildings, people knocking on the door of the church to see if they could help, engineers being elected to the Levy board, Sugar Bowl patrons in the Quarter, and a smile on Miss Ethel’s face when she saw the drywall almost complete in her home and a new garden ready for planting. It was invigorating to be part of a Christian community that could look past the bureaucracy and simply help people who needed it. And it was exciting to be part of a group choosing to follow God’s call to help our neighbors and in doing so to realize that we must broaden our horizon when we define our “neighborhood” and our “community” to include our new friends in New Orleans. -- Allison Youngblood   One of the most important things I learned on the NOLA trip was that God truly has a reason for everything. There were times when I thought it would have been better to complete “B” instead of “A” and that “X” could have been completed faster via “Y,” but I finally realized that God understood that “B” needed to get done, and that “X” may have taken slower, but I got to meet person “G” in the process. I wrote this above in an abstract sense in order to keep some things relatively confidential. But the point is that a mission trip is designed not to do things “your” way, but to do things God’s way–-just like we are to live life. And that if you take a step back and look deeper into the picture, you’ll see God’s presence and his/her hand at work. The point of a mission trip is to physically work for social justice in God’s name, but not to force God upon others. God calls us to work with certain people and to work in collaboration and under the direction of the locals. The point of a mission trip is not to necessarily ask questions, but to just do what is necessary and trust that the trip leaders are truly under God’s direction. And lastly, the sense of community developed on our mission trip created a family-like environment that made the trip much more worthwhile. I thank everyone for their presence of family during the NOLA trip and also to everyone who kept us in their prayers. Thanks much! --Ruth Anne Whitfield   “Why rebuild New Orleans? Isn’t it just going to flood again? Has anything changed in the materials and methods for building so that flooding will not be so devastating? Does it make sense to rebuild?” These were the questions that haunted me as I embarked on the trip to New Orleans in December of 2006. I decided to go on this trip because I had not been on a mission trip since college. I loved the mission trips I participated in during high school. I decided to go to New Orleans partly because I wanted to help the people of New Orleans, but mostly because it was about the only trip my work schedule could accommodate. So I went, not fully knowing why and feeling fairly sure that the work I was about to engage in (rebuilding houses severely damaged in the flooding didn’t really make sense). What I didn’t realize in that moment; however, was that my analysis was based in a significant misconception about the work I was called to do in New Orleans. You see, I went to New Orleans believing that the work I was called to do was primarily to tear up rotten floorboards, to pull nails out of studs, to destroy a concrete slab and make room for a backyard garden, to put a roof on a house, to do whatever physical tasks were set before me to aid in the rebuilding of houses. I was wrong. I certainly did tear up rotten floorboards, pull out more nails than I care to count, learn to use a sledgehammer and a jackhammer to decimate a concrete slab, and learn how to lay shingles on a roof, but that wasn’t really the deepest point of my presence. “You all are the hands of God, He’s got no other hands but yours,” Miss Ethel, one of the homeowners we worked closely with, told us all at dinner one evening. There it was, my purpose for being in New Orleans: to be God’s hands, to make manifest God’s love and presence to a people who are feeling deeply forgotten. Looking back on the experience I realize that, even more deeply than my call to presence, I was called to New Orleans to be changed. Through Miss Ethel’s words, I recognized my call to be no longer a builder of houses, but a builder of community, a builder of hope. Miss Ethel’s voice became the voice of Christ when he called to the fishermen saying, “I will make you fishers of men.” Lord, may the call you sent through Christ to the fishermen, and through Miss Ethel to me infuse the ordinary activities of my life. Teach me to see my daily work in the new light of your call. Transform me from being a catcher of fish to a fisher for people. Amen. --Megham Freytag   It was one year later, and I was back. Only this time it wasn’t Gautier, Mississippi. It was New Orleans and it had been 18 months since the disaster hit. The yellow flood line was still clear on many of the houses. Attempts to paint over it provide only a thin veneer for the pains beneath. On almost every house, the spray painted marks are still visible–-indicating the Guard unit, the date, and how many people inside were alive and how many were dead. A hush fell over the van full of volunteers as we saw the flood damaged homes, cars flipped over, boats perched in precarious positions far from water, and household appliances scattered in the middle of yards. All these markers gave a clear and vivid testament to the magnitude of the situation. But amidst the chaos of the destruction shines hope. And testament to a stronger force than all humanity has ever known is being given everyday by countless volunteers. It is a testament to the reconciling ministry of Jesus Christ here on earth. Christ has no body now on earth but ours, no hands but ours, no feet but ours, and we are the eyes through which Christ’s compassion is to look out to the earth. Let us forget ourselves and not the pleas for help of the people of the Gulf States. There is much work still to be done. Let us use our feet to meet people where they are and our hands to do God’s work. --Douglas Pond I have no idea why I signed up to go to NOLA. It was the first trip that has worked with school breaks. My sister spent months in the past year doing Katrina-related work through AmeriCorps. I didn’t think about why I wanted to or what I was going to do, I just signed up. As winter break approached, I started to wonder what I had gotten myself into. The skills inventory made me feel like I wouldn’t be able to contribute much, and I worried that everyone would know each other except me. I remained slightly unsure the day we arrived until a small group went out to look at the sites where we would be working. Seeing the supplies sitting ready for the workers to use them, the progress of the teams before us, the need of those we were helping, it made me realize what I was there to do. The next morning at Miss Ethel’s house, we picked up nails and shingles all day for a team working on the roof. The following day I was passing through Miss Ethel’s kitchen and stopped to grab some screws for the two men installing drywall. They handed me the drill, and while they measured and set the drywall, I finished screwing in each panel (well, as high as I could reach). The next day we had started on the laundry room when their group left for home, and I was left with the rest of a laundry room, hallway, and living room and not a lot of confidence. Helping was one thing, but I hadn’t handled a drill much since college. I hadn’t used a Rotozip in years. And here I was, with a window, three doorways, and all the holes that vents and pipes and outlets make in a laundry room–-but not the skills to teach anyone and pretty unsure even about doing it myself. Then Miss Ethel came in, so surprised at how much more like her house the kitchen was looking, and very excited about the laundry room. I finished up the laundry room, and the cold water pipe is cut really well (the drain and the hot water pipe they tell me can be patched around pretty easily). Andrea took over with the drill and Melanie started measuring and cutting. By the time we left, most of the house had drywall up, and many of those pieces had my touch somewhere. And while there is a lot more to NOLA than that, that was most of it for me. I wasn’t the best person for the job. For each hole I cut that ended up perfect, two more were a little (or maybe a lot) off. But I was there, and I cared. We might not have been the most skilled or knowledgeable or efficient, but in the end, 20 people who want to help can still accomplish an awful lot. --Mary Cutter