Graystone Presbyterian Church

It's late.  10:30 to be exact.  I am not a night owl to begin with,but Jeff has asked me to blog any reflections I might have about today or the week.  Bare with me as I have been up since 5:30 am. and have been on the go till now.  My thought process is a little slow and it's hard to put my words together and spell correctly.

As I shared with the group this evening I have mixed feelings concerning this week.  I was very much looking forward to my very first "work" mission trip and spending some quality time with my son who was also with me on the trip.  The week has gone by fast as this was our last day.  Once you are here and witness for your self the work that is yet to be done,the work that we did seems hardly enough.  Yet for those who's homes that were worked on, it was a long time coming and most appreciated beyond words.  And we discovered it was a blessing for both.

God has been good.  He has been constant companion throughout the trip.  I am sure in the next few days as I have time to process all that I have seen and experienced I will have more to say.  As for tonight my eye lids are growing heavy and I know I must go to sleep as tomorrow will be a very long day.   We are not expected to arrive in Pitts. until 12 midnight and I am a designated driver.

Pray for our safe trip home.  Claudia

It is difficult to describe feeling; it is even more difficult to describe what I have experienced in the last five days.  Never before have I experienced something so grand.  The people I am currently living with and the place I am currently living has allowed me to paradigm shift.

Two weeks ago I was not 'of God' nor did I understand or care to understand faith.  The community of Graystone in New Orleans may be the greatest community I have shared time and space with. 

I initially came to New Orleans to provide strength and help rebuild houses.  I now realize that I am not only here to help physically but also here to serve God.

I came here alone and I am leaving with Jesus.  I am stoked.

-adam

Today, we said goodbye to Mr. Hammond, the man whose home we "gutted" the past three days.  He worked beside us at every point while we removed everything in his home down to the bare stud walls, ceiling, and flooring.  During an afternoon break, he came to sit down with us and share some water and wisdom.  He told us about how blessed he was not just from our group being there, but during his whole life.  This avid gardner shared with great clarity and passion his thoughts about working the land that God gave us and caring for it in a way that would honor him - chiefly sharing the fruit of our harvest with each other.  This 70 year old man who kept pace with all of us younger types, gave us sage advice about staying healthy and taking care of our bodies.  He talked with fire in his voice about injustice and doing what's right; and he shared how blessed and thankful he was for everything in his life.  This man with not much education, reduced to living in a tiny trailer for the past three years, gave thanks to God in all of his circumstances. 

When it was time to leave, we turned to say goodbye to this remarkable man, and he made his way through the whole group with tears streaming down his cheeks giving us each a hug and his heartfelt gratitude.  Meeting this man has been one of my life's most memorable experiences.  His determination and perseverance in the face of overwhelming obstacles is an example and inspiration to me and many of us who have had the opportunity to meet him.

Friday we will give Mr. Hammond some seeds for his garden and a thank you note.  For truly we are the ones who have been blessed to be allowed in to this man's life.  It was a funeral for his home, but many more groups will come in the weeks and months ahead, and rebuild his home.  After so much work, waiting, and wondering about the injustice of it all, he now has a new beginning.  Thanks be to God.

Her name is Mrs. Butler.  Currently, she lives in Houston, waiting to return to her home.  Yesterday - Monday - she returned to her home for the first time since it was in a state of disrepair.  We - the smaller of the two Graystone crews - were among those there to receive her.  Mrs. Butler was attentive to all the details concerning her home, patiently making known her preferences concerning colors and designs.  At the same time, she was overcome with emotion at seeing her home near completion, maybe only a month away from being ready to welcome her back after nearly four years.  With her face exuding a joy that comes only from equally apparent wounds, she said "thank you" to those working on her home.  Tangibly, she expressed such gratitude by leaving lunch money for all of us to a New Orleans favorite - po-boys (northern translation: subs/heroes).

This week, the Lord has granted us the privilege of scraping, painting, caulking, etc., out of love for him and Mrs. Butler.  For this we are thankful.  Her parting words to us were that she would remember us in her prayers.   

  

Words to describe today don’t come easily. How do you describe a funeral for a home? A funeral no less emotionally charged than one for a person.

 

It’s been an emotional week for the staff at EDOLA, our guides said as they tried to prepare us. Most of the people EDOLA helps are found through word of mouth. Only recently did they meet Earnest Hammond. Thankfully they did.

 

The New York Times covered part of his story earlier this month. (You can read that article see a few select photos here: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/08/us/08trailer.html)

 

Mr. Hammond’s story is raw and gut-wrenching, and it can’t help but challenge you and tear your heart.

 

That article will tell you about how FEMA is taking this man’s trailer. It will quite possibly enrage you and make you wonder if there is any justice in the recovery effort. But that article does not tell the full story about Mr. Hammond. It does not tell you about his strength – how he earned the money to buy his rental units, how he cut a hole in his roof to escape when his apartment filled with five feet of water, how he has a system of collecting and smashing cans to make money needed to survive, how he tends his beautiful garden in his backyard full of watermelons, tomatoes, and peppers. The article especially does not touch on the strength required of him to gut as much of the apartments as he could and then welcome our bedraggled group into his front yard with open arms and declare, “What a blessing.”

 

That article can’t possibly tell you about is what it’s like to hold a garbage bag with him and help him tear down a bathroom he worked so hard to maintain. Or, to dig through his tenants’ hamper and peel their work uniforms from their floor. Or, throw away their wrapping paper while envisioning the Christmases the people celebrated in the space.

 

And so today, some of us held a southern funeral (complete with jazz) for one man’s dreams and memories. We helped him pour them out of an old, rusty hot water heater and into a garden of ripening tomatoes for his community in the 7^th Ward.

 

For those of us who read the Times article before we came, we learned the power of being able to insert ourselves into a story that we only knew second-hand.

 

Those of us who are working on another project know that all the work we’re doing is important and necessary.

 

It is truly an honor to be here. But we’re relying on God to give us physical strength, wisdom, and compassion.