New
Orleans is more diverse than any place I have ever been. Ever. I’ve
seen men dolled up in hot pink dresses, homeless ten-year-olds,
tourists from all corners of the earth, streets too dangerous to walk
down and remains from Hurricane Katrina at almost every corner. If I
settled here for the next ten years, I feel like I would only be able
to scratch the surface of this culture.
Yesterday
I took our 44 kids to a Katrina memorial between our homeless
feedings and relational ministries. The memorial was a burial
ground to 126 unidentified
and unclaimed
victims. Individuals who had so little connection with people in our
world that no one knew they went missing-no one knew they passed
away.
I’m
still trying to process that.
Hurricane
Katrina completely changed the course of so many lives. In an
instance people lost their homes, their cars and their every
possession. Every. Single. Thing. The masses were forced to
evacuate the city for the next three
months. People
scattered around our country in search of shelter, food and hope.
And those who returned found almost nothing worth salvaging.
We
happened upon an abandoned house while driving through a community
last Saturday and we took the opportunity to check it out. After
climbing through the front door we found ourselves amidst total
destruction. The water level lines on the walls were almost up to my
head, the sheetrock had been burglarized for the copper pipes they
housed and the bathroom still had shaving cream and shampoo in the
cupboards.
What
would it be like to lose every earthly possession?
What
would it be like to watch the work of my life wash away in a single
day?
What
would it be like to be forced from my life? For months?
What
would it be like to return to total destruction? To nothing?
I’m
not sure, but it has been incredibly humbling working in this place
and imagining how I would have reacted to such disaster.
