Common Courage
It's Sunday morning and I have taken the day off from gutting to attend church and participate in a second line, which is a New Orleans-style jazz parade. Father Bart, the priest here at St. Mary's of the Angels, gave a moving sermon about faith and rebuilding. I am certain I was not the only one grateful to hear his words.
Sitting outside the house we were gutting yesterday eating lunch, I met Tina, a New Orleansian with ten kids who is living in her moldy house. She knows it's bad for her childrens' health, but she explained: "What else am I supposed to do? FEMA stopped rent assistance for us in Texas so we had to come back here. Then I tried to get a trailer for us to live in, but they won't give you a trailer if you already living in your house." She doesn't let her kids play outside because crack dealers have started squatting two doors down. In fact, in the middle of our conversation a confrontation erupted during a deal across the street. Tina rose and faced the men, screaming at them about shame and the blood of Jesus and various other things until they stopped shoving each other and apologized to her. It was a remarkable thing to see.
Tina is like so many people I have met down here: strong, kind, determined. As I sat talking with her I tried to imagine what it must be like to live her life, to cook for twelve people on a hot plate in a rotting house, to have her neighborhood flooded and ravaged by crack cocaine, to live with endless challenges and despair all around. We told Tina how much we admired her perseverance and kindness, but she shrugged it off. "What else am I supposed to do."
Thinking about it now as I am writing, I realize she said "what else am I supposed to do" to us many times in a twenty minute conversation. And here I am, working in New Orleans gutting houses, but I have the privilege to be doing damn near anything, anywhere. I have the choice, and I will leave, and they will still be here. There's something to ponder.
I don't feel guilty for having the privilege to come down here, I feel confident in my choice to come down and do some good deeds. And the gutting program is helping individuals and the community a great deal. But as I sit eating my lunch with Tina, feeling so inspired by her courage, love, and action, I wonder what more I could be doing...what more we all could be doing.
Love always, my friends...
Sitting outside the house we were gutting yesterday eating lunch, I met Tina, a New Orleansian with ten kids who is living in her moldy house. She knows it's bad for her childrens' health, but she explained: "What else am I supposed to do? FEMA stopped rent assistance for us in Texas so we had to come back here. Then I tried to get a trailer for us to live in, but they won't give you a trailer if you already living in your house." She doesn't let her kids play outside because crack dealers have started squatting two doors down. In fact, in the middle of our conversation a confrontation erupted during a deal across the street. Tina rose and faced the men, screaming at them about shame and the blood of Jesus and various other things until they stopped shoving each other and apologized to her. It was a remarkable thing to see.
Tina is like so many people I have met down here: strong, kind, determined. As I sat talking with her I tried to imagine what it must be like to live her life, to cook for twelve people on a hot plate in a rotting house, to have her neighborhood flooded and ravaged by crack cocaine, to live with endless challenges and despair all around. We told Tina how much we admired her perseverance and kindness, but she shrugged it off. "What else am I supposed to do."
Thinking about it now as I am writing, I realize she said "what else am I supposed to do" to us many times in a twenty minute conversation. And here I am, working in New Orleans gutting houses, but I have the privilege to be doing damn near anything, anywhere. I have the choice, and I will leave, and they will still be here. There's something to ponder.
I don't feel guilty for having the privilege to come down here, I feel confident in my choice to come down and do some good deeds. And the gutting program is helping individuals and the community a great deal. But as I sit eating my lunch with Tina, feeling so inspired by her courage, love, and action, I wonder what more I could be doing...what more we all could be doing.
Love always, my friends...
posted by John Engler at 1:02 PM
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