Around
11pm tomorrow night I will be finishing up a ten-hour car ride and
raking the side of the road for a sign that says: Welcome
to New Orleans. My legs are
already complaining about the journey, but my soul is thirsting at
the opportunities that await. It’s going to be a good, good week.
the next ten days I get to help lead a group of fifty middle school
and high school students in one of the most dangerous and needy
cities in our nation. After Hurricane Katrina destroyed much
of New Orleans, the city has been awarded six straight titles as the
most murderous city in America.
And with 26 deaths this past January alone, a seventh title may soon
be on its way.
As
I have been reading up on the city, my heart has been heavy. I came
across a story this afternoon of a mother who has had to bury each
one of her sons in the past 19 years. All four
of them. Gone. I have learned of families that are still pleading
for clean, decent water to come from their taps. I have shed tears
over kids I will never meet because of thin walls and flying bullets.
I have been stunned with stories of 20-somethings giving their lives
to protect young children from drive-by shootings (children they were
not even related to).
We
will be spending our time focused on a couple of rehab and homeless
shelters. We will be serving meals, helping out with after school
programs, doing construction in people’s living spaces, building
relationships, and showing lots of love. I cannot imagine what it
would be like to graduate from high school having attended the
funerals of 22 classmates. I cannot imagine having attended one.
for the opportunity to make a change. Even a small one. That might
contribute to making this world a better place. That might awaken
some middle schoolers on their Spring Break to their role in this
world. That might mean something to someone.
