We've been back for over a week now. My strained muscles are easing, my bruises have changed from black and blue to new rainbow hues. That spells a little physical relief. But such relief is nowhere in sight for the people of the Mississippi Gulf Coast.
Three years later, they still struggle with the aftermath of Katrina. With a group of Beatitudes Society seminarians we traveled again to the Gulf Coast for our annual Service Learning Trip. The learning occurs not by reading any book or listening to any lecture, but simply by opening our ears and our ears to the sights and stories of the people of this region, and using our hands to carry some lumber, pound some nails, and add a little sweat to the re-buiding efforts that will last a decade.
We had a fine tour of New Orleans. Sister Mary Bernstein, of the Micah Project (a PICO Affiliate) with and Sister Marie Wolfington, took us far beyond the prettied-up tourist areas for a "reality tour" where we could see the ghost neighborhoods of the Lower Ninth Ward, and the few small efforts toward rebuiling. The horror stories of failed government and insurance company greed abound.
At CampCoastCare --thank God for this project!!--we joined work crews for a week of hard and yet joyous labor, hearing again and again, from every resident we met: "If it weren't for the churches, we wouldn't have homes."
We came away heart-warmed by the courage of the residents, and stunned by the lack of government response. Among my favorite questions from the students: "Didn't President Roosevelt employ people to do building projects like this once? Why don't we do that?"
Why indeed. Perhaps the insurance companies could foot the bill from their windfall profits made as a result of their tripling the local premium rates.
Comments from a few students follow:
Spending a week on the Gulf Coast allowed me both the possibility to understand in a very real way the problems that still face Louisiana and Mississippi 3 years after hurricanes Katrina and Rita as well as the opportunity, in an admittedly small way, to help those individuals who still struggle daily with the reality of dire destitution. Many of these individuals are working class men and women whose salaries simply are not enough to recover from the total loss of a home for which insurance companies refuse to pay.
Sadly, until seeing this poverty for myself, I have been greatly misinformed on the situation facing the people of the Gulf Coast.
When the Saints trotted out of the tunnel and into a brand new Superdome, the media portrayed a revitalized New Orleans, a city which had overcome great adversity to reclaim its character and heritage. We were shown the much heralded Bourbon St. parties, and were told to celebrate the redemption of a down but not out city. What was not shown by the sportscasters, however, are the hollow homes filled with rubble and wreckage mere miles from the 50 yard line, seemingly frozen in a perpetual state of post-storm trauma.
We were not shown the coastlines of Mississippi and Alabama, whose beaches cannot be walked barefoot for fear of the shattered remains of windows of homes carried out to sea over three years ago. We were not shown the faces of the men and women who were somehow left behind in the Gulf Coast's redemption.
They were left behind by a government who will not rebuild their homes. They were left behind by insurance corporations whose bottom line does not include the humane living situations of thousands of families. They were left behind by a nation, of which I am a part, who refused to acknowledge their continuing disaster.
I am blessed to have been a part of the Beatitudes Society immersion trip. But with my blessing comes a woe. If I fail to act, then I am failing to be a Christian. Through this experience, I have heard God calling me to give my time, talent, and treasure to the people of the Gulf Coast, and to shed light on a problem which has not gone away, and still clamors for redemption.
Our team was so amazing. The synergy between us was so evident. We were a cohesive group that was open and vulnerable to meeting the needs of the rebuilding. I have been sharing my experience with family and friends; letting them know that the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina is not over and the Gulf Coast needs helping hands.
I am humbled that my hands were used to cut, lay and grout tile for the home of Ms. Williams, an 84 year old African-American woman who is physically challenged. I teamed with a group of seniors from Maryland who had the energy of teenagers. We tiled together, sweat together, ate together and laughed together. Because of this experience I will never be the same.
God is calling us to step outside of ourselves and care for our neighbors, friends and family who are suffering for what ever reason, just as Jesus did. In the midst of that suffering God is saying to me be a compassionate, caring and prophetic minister in the wilderness of life. I'm blessed to be a part of the Beatitudes Society, an organization that is compassionate, caring and prophetic. Please continue offering this wonderful opportunity to seminarians.
The Gulf Coast region is a puzzle board of radically different stories that would never have taken shape without the events of August 25, 2005. Each story is different, yet each is an integral part of the new web of narrative that comprises the region affected by the storm. At Camp Coast Care, we listened to these stories and in the process we ourselves became new pieces of the puzzle board.
It is important that these stories are told, and once told they must continue to be heard in places the Gulf Coast residents themselves are unable to reach.
These people must not be forgotten. Even though the government and economy (the insurance companies) have failed to respond appropriately, as long as their stories are told there is hope, and as long as there is hope there is renewal.
While volunteers such as those in The Beatitudes Society provide physical reconstruction during their one-week stay in the Gulf region, the pieces they add to the puzzle have the power of reverberating and exponentially creating new pieces. For this reason especially, they are critical to the mission of Camp Coast Care and the Beatitudes Society itself. Listening to and responding to the stories of those affected by Katrina wields tremendous power in strengthening a network of renewal in America.
Among the many stories I heard in Mississippi was the story of Jerry, the director of facilities at Camp Coast Care. As I drove around on procurement duty with Jerry on my first day at Camp Coast Care, I gently prodded him with questions and comments in order to solicit responses as to how the storm may have affected him and his family. To him, I am sure I was just another wide-eyed volunteer who would come and go, and he could have easily dismissed me.
Although he seemed weary of telling his story, he spoke up as if he knew that it needed to be told. Jerry was a newcomer to the region. Born and raised in Indiana, he had moved down to Mississippi only a year before the storm to teach at the local middle school. He was an alumnus of the Big Ten Conference academic and athletic powerhouse of Indiana University who had just begun settling in with his life in southern Mississippi when Katrina had struck. It had radically changed his life.
From what I could garner, he was no longer married, and nor was he middle school teacher. He was living in part of the country that was not his own and employed in an occupation that he had not been trained for. Five years earlier, he never could have guessed how radically his life was about to change. He is now employed in the economy of rebuilding a shattered region.
My last three days as a volunteer were spent under the supervision of Darrell, a contractor employed by Camp Coast Care. Not every story in the Gulf Coast is a story of grief, loss, and destruction. There are also stories of hope and opportunity, and it is into this category that Darrell’s story falls. Unlike Jerry and many others, Darrell was not present during the storm. Unlike most jobs, opportunities in the construction industry would be ripe in southern Mississippi.
Darrell moved down to the area after the storm in order to secure a steady job as a contractor, and while most people have suffered from the destruction caused by Katrina on most sectors of the Gulf Coast economy, Darrell has thrived as a contractor. Most in the region seem downcast and dejected as they work to rebuild their lives, but Darrell’s wide-eyed enthusiasm is a witness to his obvious joy at finding opportunity where others would be least likely to look for it.
Another story that struck me was that of Rev. David Knight. As the rector of the local Episcopal Church, David was saddened by the destruction of St. Patrick’s, but he was one of the lucky ones whose home was left relatively unharmed. From the base of security that he and his wife were able to maintain, which included continuing support from the church, they were among the few who were in a position to act as caregivers. Three years after the storm, the wells from which they had been gathering the necessary strength to provide care seemed to be drying up, and it was obvious that he and his wife desperately needed spiritual and personal renewal if they were to continue as caregivers. I was impressed by the care that he and his wife had been providing but saddened by the sight of their clearly ebbing strength.
Besides the residents directly affected by the storm, the soul of the region continues to be worked like red clay that makes up its soil by the hundreds of volunteers who continue to forsake their own lives for the sake of helping rebuild the lives of the Gulf Coast’s residents. Each individual volunteer adds to the puzzle that is being shaped and reshaped every day. They physically add pieces of the puzzle while siding, tiling, or roofing, and provide a floor plan of strength in the solidarity they share with one another and with the residents from upon which the region can build itself up.
I was mesmerized by 72 year old, Baire, from Laguna Beach, CA, who wielded the power saw and mastered the measuring and cutting of pieces of siding. Paul from Maryland made sure that we were constantly on our feet by supplying instructions and the get-go to get the job done if Darrell was not around. In addition, he supplied the enthusiasm that had a tendency to be lacking late in the hot sun of the Mississippi afternoon. Paul would have literally worked until dusk and been back in the wee hours of the morning if he could have. “I have one week here”, he said later in the car, “and I want to work as much as possible while I am here.” His physical and emotional enthusiasm provided the energy that we all needed and continually uplifted the rest of us.
Finally, the National Civilian Conservation Corps-- Americrops-- volunteers were testimony to the young people in America who are getting work done in places that the capitalist economy ignores.
These people are the Gulf Coast. They and countless others have stories to tell if only anybody would listen. Our first job is to listen but once we have heard, we have the responsibility to act, especially if we are in better position than the residents themselves to do so. The least we can do, really, is to spread the word and tell their stories.
My time in the Gulf Coast with the Beatitudes Society affected me deeply. It was so encouraging and inspiring to spend time in fellowship with people from all walks of life who have a passion for justice, in whatever form that may have manifested itself to me throughout the week. I loved spending time with the seminary students and having the privilege of hearing the varied journeys they had each taken to eventually arrive at seminary. The Beatitudes Society staff and supporters were amazing, and I was so impressed with all of the hard work and dedication they put in to make the trip possible. And I was blown away by the (mostly) retired folks from all over who were at Camp Coast Care the same week we were- so much energy and compassion were poured out from their hands and hearts into the community, and into my own life, that week.
It was hard to see the continual devastation and all of the work that remains to be done in this region. I had been very ignorant about the situation prior to this trip, and now feel a huge call on my heart to continue to work for change in the Gulf Coast. This world is unfortunately full of disasters and pain, and it is our duty as people of faith to come forward not only in current situations, but in past injustices that remain unremedied. The people of the Gulf Coast do not deserve to be forgotten as they continue to struggle with a lack of housing and resources. Not everyone may be able to travel to do physical labor in the Gulf Coast, but I hope that I can bring more information to my community about the situation so that more prayers and resources can flow from the Pacific Northwest to this hurting region. I am so grateful that the Beatitudes Society made this opportunity available to me and other students; it truly was a week that affected me deeply.
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