Originally posted 10/28/2010
When I left my house in South Georgia on Sunday afternoon, I thought to myself, “It’s been 5 years since Katrina. I don’t know if that will be the primary focus of this class or not, but it’s time to move on.” From my perspective, people suffer through fires, earthquakes, tornados, and even hurricanes, but at some point, they move on. I’ve known some of them. Some of them are family. I was anxious to see what the scope of the class would be. Monday and Tuesday were classroom sessions and after two days of discussions on the disaster, rebuilding process, and grief issues, I still had the same mindset. Pain hurts and there’s no way around that, but at some point you have to change your focus from the past and look more to the future.
Looking to the future was part of what I was able to do when we visited the Lower Ninth Ward on Wednesday. Several of the new homes there look like something out of a Dr. Seuss book. With solar panels, some of the roofs swoop down and touch the ground on one side of the house. Others are elevated for parking beneath the house. But the architecture and aesthetics aren’t the only futuristic aspects. One or two were built to float, should floods ever come again. Several of these homes are designated as “Green” or “Earth Friendly.” The technology used in construction and inside the home is state of the art. These “Whoville-style” homes are few and far between. Many others are typical of suburban America. They’re nice, not especially fancy, but are certainly nice, comfortable homes. This only part of the story, however. For every new home, there stands one abandoned and condemned. With boarded doors and windows, they still had spray paint markings from the search and rescue teams. There are empty lots with nothing more than an old slab in the midst of tall grass. The rebuilding process is still in full swing.
Though there are many homes to be built and many folks displaced, it still didn’t rest well with me to hear so much talk about Katrina. It seemed to be not a defining point but the defining point in people’s lives.
Thursday, I walked with a group up and down a street immediately behind the seminary. Our assignment was to simply ask people if we could pray for them. We didn’t talk to many people. In fact, it wasn’t until we got to the end of the street that we met our first resident. We told him what we were doing and through that conversation he shared his Katrina experience. Joseph actually lived in a neighboring parish, but recounted a couple of stories for us. One story included a man who was clinging to his wife and child in the wake of the flood waters, one in each arm. They were desperately waiting for rescue. The man was struggling to hold on to his family and told his wife he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold. She turned to him and said, “Let me go. Just hold on to our baby.” With that, this wife and mother floated away. My heart sank as Joseph shared this story. I have a wife. I have two precious sons and a daughter on the way. God had just given me a gift but in the moment, I was too dumb or too numb to realize it. He gave me someone that made it personal for me. I quickly realized this is a tragedy from which you never really “move on.” You pick up the pieces, sure, but life will never be the same. You will never return to “normal.” (Whatever normal is) How arrogant and presumptuous I had been? How insensitive, how foolish! I had been wrong, so wrong.
Next, we met Mrs. Ethel. She’s a saint. No, she doesn’t play for the football team. She answered the door in her house coat and curlers. Initially, she was skeptical to talk with us, but soon enough she warmed up to us and was eager and happy to tell her story. She had evacuated before Katrina hit but returned home to see that everything she owned was ruined. Somehow, in the midst of her tragic story, she had this glow about her. She seemed at peace. We asked her if it was ok to pray with her. She replied, “Yes. Pray, ‘God don’t move the mountain. Give me the strength to climb it.’”
After praying, we moved on and spoke next with Jeremy. He was a young man working on a house that had been flooded. They were gutting the house for free! His aunt was the owner of the house and his father was the contractor. About three years ago, his aunt had paid $150,000 to a stranger to rebuild her home. The con-artist took her money and fled for Canada. Apparently, that was a common practice. With no other options, her home has remained untouched since Katrina. Jeremy’s smile was as big as a Louisiana aligator as he talked about how huge this house was going to be. He said it would be the best house on the block. He was proud to be doing this for his aunt. I got the sense this wasn’t his only act of volunteerism.
God used three different people and their stories to change my heart and attitude. First of all, I learned from Joseph, that I am no judge of a person’s tragedy. To “walk a mile in someone’s shoes” is really an impossibility. As similar as my story may be, I will process it differently. I will grieve differently. I will cope differently. Through Mrs. Ethel, God reminded me He is still in control. True and lasting hope and joy come only from Him. Through Jeremy, God showed me that people who put others above themselves are still the greatest leaders. They, not the celebrities that throw money at building projects, are the real heros. God changed me and I’m grateful.
Ragamuffin Warrior 