"Now I see..."

In addition to our church member Carol Gebhardt, our little trio of workers was rounded out by my close friend Angelique Codarmaz Rainey. The night before we left New Orleans, I asked Angelique if she'd write down some of her thoughts from and about our mission week ... It was a great gift to share the week with her ... I want to share her words with you.

"Passion begins with a burden and a split-second moment when you understand something like never before. That burden is on those who know. Those who don't know are at peace. Those of us who do know get disturbed and are forced to take action." -Wangari Maathai, Winner of Nobel Peace Prize

Courtney shared this quote with me, as we prepared our dinner back at the mission station, the last night that we all shared in New Orleans. It brought into focus all the swirling thoughts that had been collecting over the last few days for me. There was just so much to be seen, so many stories to hear, so much to sort out and so very little time.

I had never been to New Orleans. I never saw the beauty of the famed city for myself. I always meant to but never did. Then Katrina became a front page story, a daily headline and a national scandal. I felt a sense of loss having missed my chance to see this historical gem in all its glory. Time went on and the headlines faded from the press, with only an occasional mention of Brad Pitt or Harry Connick Jr. I let it slip from my mind as well. Until I needed a vacation.

I decided to go on a mission trip and I didn't really care where or when or what I would be doing, it was just time to go. Thank goodness my preacher friend Courtney had just the plan; a mission to New Orleans for hurricane relief. 'Awesome!' I thought. 'I can finally see this cool place I had always wanted to go, and do something for someone else at the same time.' And here I sit feeling completely ignorant.

It is just shy of the third anniversary of this natural disaster. Three years since countless Americans lost their lives, their property, their control, their hope, and their faith in a government they waited upon for rescue. They still wait. They are just now coming home. Some are just now finding a way to BEGIN to start over. For them it is still going on. It is still a nightmare. For them it is nowhere near over.

Our group worked on the home of a mother and son. Their 100-year-old shotgun double had survived the storm and the flood and the chaos that followed in the months it took the family to regain the means to come home. We sat during our lunch breaks and asked Andre about his experiences, and he told us. He spoke of how he survived the storm alone. How he worried when he lost contact with his family. How he was shuttled from one place to another with no knowledge of where his family was, where he was going, or when he would get back. He told us how he was encouraged to make a home away from his beloved New Orleans. And he told us how important it was for him to be back home. His mother Otha talked about having to move six times since Katrina. She spoke of how excited she is to prepare to move this one last time, into her beautiful 'new' old home. When we posed for pictures with Andre and Otha, Andre said over and over again, 'Show everyone these pictures. Show 'em so they know we here and they need to believe our stories. Show 'em, 'cause we still here."

On our tour of the lower 9th Ward, the most devastated of areas within the city, we met a man named Michael. His story was no less heartbreaking. He and his house were washed away in the storm surge. He spent 13 days at the Superdome with severe injuries before receiving care. His home destroyed, he had no reason to return, except that his mother had owned that property before him and now he owned it outright. He wasn't about to be told to find a new place to settle. So there he sits, the only house on his block surrounded by a meadow of tall grasses and wildlife where once there was house after house filled with families and pets, neighbors and friends. They are no more. He is alone and broken-hearted.

And now so am I. Now I know this burden. Now I see what is yet to be done. Now I see that for most of you it is over enough to never give it another thought. Now I see that I will never be able to put it out of my mind.

House after house is marked with a sign that says 'Don't tear us down, we're coming back' or 'We are rebuilding'. But those homes have been sitting vacant for three years now. They haven't found the resources to make good on that paper promise. Faith-based relief services like the ones that organized our trip are the ONLY ones helping these people keep their promise to come home. FEMA is long gone. The news media is long gone. It is the Church that is still here fighting for the spirit of these survivors. It is the Body of Christ that continues to show mercy and love to those of our brothers and sisters who are still in so much need.

I beg you, before you sleep tonight say a prayer for the comfort and healing of your brothers and sisters in New Orleans. If you have the time or talent, come to New Orleans and lend a hand. If you have treasure, give to Week of Compassion. There is still an urgent need for help.