In the days since I returned from this last trip to New
Orleans, I have been asked more than once if the mission experience was
different here in the United States versus in another country. The obvious answer is yes. In New Orleans, we spoke the same language. In the Lower Ninth Ward, we could go to Walgreens every morning
to pickup supplies. Here we had an
abundance of meal options. It was easy to
stay in touch with family. In so many
ways, it was different. Yet, in many
ways, it was the same.
Need and hurt do not respect boundary lines. Frustration and desperation exist here in the
“land of plenty” as it does in countries that hunger for so much. People desire to be known and not forgotten
here as much – maybe even more so – than in the third world.
When I was preparing for this trip I was given priceless advice. I was told to not be afraid to “ask their Katrina story.” So, I did and I will forever be changed.
Each story – six years later – gave voice to the seemingly
forgotten. Faces gave way to
names. Each empty lot or broken down
house became known as one whose family survived or tomb for those who didn’t. Six years later, tragedy slowly releases its
bony grip.
The heartbreak is not forgotten. Those gone may never come back. What once was will never be again.
Still and yet, I hope.
I hope that the stories will continue to be told. I hope that people will continue to
listen. I hope that people will be moved
to help rebuild hearts, lives and homes.
© A Sacred Longing 2009-2011
