this is why we work in teams

This is the day that my mission trip experience holds is hardest for me to get my head together -- the middle of the trip, and the third day of work. Looking at journals from previous mission trips, I know that the first day I'm meeting everyone and getting a feel for the set up of the week ... the second day I'm getting heavy into the work and learning tricks to make things more efficient, more effective ... but the third day?

It starts registering. How massive the work really is. And here? Exponentially more so. I start to tell my mother a story ... and I cry. We sit up after the day's work and talk about what we've seen and done ... and I am enraged. We compare bumps and bruises and laugh (a lot) ... and prepare ourselves for another day of exactly the same thing. It occurs to us that we'll work tomorrow and at least part of Friday and then we'll head home ... and I want to stay. To cry, to rage, to work some more.

But since all this is rolling in my head, little of it is landing together in any coherent form. This is why we work in teams; it is too much to do, to see, to know, to take, all alone. Fortunately, Pam Trapp has had better luck getting HER words together. I'm adding a few pictures along the way:

Frustration, devastation and destruction. When we pulled into the city on Sunday evening and drove across Highway 10 to Metarie, I thought to myself. “What is all of the fuss about?" The Sheraton and the Westin were illuminated. You could tell that there had been a storm. Some windows on the high rises were blown out. Several of the signs that you see every day – McDonalds, Lowe’s, etc, were either darkened or blown over completely. There were semi trailers parked everywhere. (Now I know that these were FEMA relief trailers.) However, we did not see any of the images that assaulted us from the news media in the days following the storm. I had imagined a completely dark city immersed in water, and deserted. I recall sitting in front of my television on the Thursday following the storm in tears thinking “I should be there helping”. So, here I was, pulling into the city, and my first impression was that the city was recovering nicely, rather quickly. I didn’t really think they needed help after all.

Boy was I ever wrong. We’ve been here for three days now. I got my rude awakening rather quickly Monday morning when we pulled into the neighborhoods that had the unfortunate location next to the levees. Each house is marked in spray paint with an orange circle divided into four sections. The top section indicates the team that inspected the home in the days after the storm with the date. The left section indicates pets in the home. The bottom indicates the dead found. I found myself silently praying for zeros.

These houses are similar in size, and as close to one another as the homes in say, Broad Ripple. Every single house, in neighborhood after neighborhood, is empty and devastated. Many, including the ones we have been gutting, look fine. However, they are uninhabitable because of mold. The drywall has to be torn from each of these homes up to the level where the mold stops. Most of the time this is about 4 feet high, sometimes it is higher.

Now what surprises me is the slow pace of clean up and reconstruction. The neighborhoods are not buzzing with activity. Today, Mayor Nagin shut down the entire west side of the city for 3 ½ hours to take a tour bus full of politicians past the levee breaks to take photos. I am astounded by the lack of presence by people of power. Perhaps I am missing something but I am ashamed of our government. There seems to be a lack of a cohesive plan to help these people.

Many of the houses are still filled with wet, molding, mud covered possessions. The people that have lost everything are paralyzed. Paralyzed by shock, confusion, frustration, grief. On Friday, we will go home to our warm beds and clean houses. I can’t imagine losing everything and not knowing when or where I would find home.

Let me share a few frustrating facts that we have learned during our stay:

- The maximum FEMA relief payout is $26,000. Most of the residents here do not have flood insurance. I don’t need to spell this out.

- As Eva, the FEMA adjustor who is staying with us at the church tells us, despite this being the maximum pay out; this does not mean that homeowners will receive anything, even if their home is totaled! She says she enters all of the data into the computer and it’s “the luck of the draw” as to whether someone receives benefits or not.

- The anticipated amount of garbage generated by the storm is what New Orleans would normally produce in 34 years. This does not include debris from home demolitions or destroyed vehicles. It only includes home contents. You see landfills in city parks throughout the city. Some of these landfills consist of only downed trees and others are debris. Sofas, mattresses, children’s toys, family possessions.

- 70% of the city has no electricity.

- The population of New Orleans in normal times is 450,000. It is now down to 100,000, including relief agency workers and volunteers.

I could continue for many more pages. Instead I implore you to help. These people need your help. If you are able, make the next trip with Courtney to New Orleans in the spring. If you are not able, then give money to Week of Compassion to help here. If you cannot do this, then write your Congressman and ask them to help. Please believe me when I tell you that our government is not doing enough. I will be writing a letter to my Congressman and copying everyone on my e mail list and asking them to do the same. If you would like a copy of this letter please write me at

pamelaatrapp@yahoo.com.

Despite all of this, I see that God is good. There are Angels among us and I am seeing them each day.

There is still a wonderful spirit in this town. New Orleans is blessed with a vibrant and healthy desire to beat this and I know that with His help -- we are part of that -- they will.

Can’t wait to see all of you on Sunday!

Pam