Final Thoughts on "Doin' Good in the Hood"

(For real, I wrote this on Saturday on my flight home from New Orleans. I have just been super busy and unable to upload until now..enjoy) As I write this I am hundreds of miles up in the sky, flying over Louisiana. Another week of doin’ good in the ‘hood is over. A few highlights from yesterday and then some concluding thoughts, although I’m sure I’ll be in Panera again in 2 days to write again… Yesterday I went with the other workers to a health fair for National Hispanic HIV Awareness Day. It was an interesting event. It was held in the parking lot of some church in one of the black neighborhoods on the other side of the city. There were groups there doing HIV tests and flu shots and giving out information on a bunch of different community health programs. I sat in on one of the HIV tests and was really impressed with how the worker went through that process, treating the man with dignity and combining the testing experience with education about HIV/AIDS and how it is transmitted. After the health fair, I finally had a po-boy! Woo! Truth be told, it was not that exciting compared to some other New Orleans fare, but it was good. Then I went out to do outreach again in a different neighborhood, the “hood of hoods.” While we were out this time, two of the workers passed out condoms and I handed out a card with St. John’s information on it for people to get more condoms and free HIV tests. When we had given condoms to one woman, I went to hand her the card saying “we also offer free HIV tests at our office.” Response: “Oh, I already got it – full blown AIDS.” Dang. It took me by surprise because it is really uncommon for people to just come out and tell you that. (The workers I was with told me later they hadn’t ever gotten that response before.) It left me feeling two things. First, it’s just sad to know that the city and the problem are both so big that it is seemingly an impossible disease to stop. Second, it was more motivation to keep doing what we were doing. Sure, it is quite awkward hearing about a stranger’s sex life, but I would much rather stomach that than Monday’s encounter any day. After outreach, I went back to Bruce and Deborah’s and hung out for a bit before round 2 of beans and rice. Excellent. After dinner Deborah and I had another really good talk about the race issues. I talked with her about a challenging video we saw in my Diversity and Oppression class last week. I continue to be so grateful for Deborah’s openness with me about a topic that is really hard to talk about sometimes. When we finished dinner, I went with Deborah to a tribute concert that was being put together to celebrate the 75th birthday of a woman who began a community choir that toured the world. She also has been in a few movies and started a gospel music festival in New Orleans. Deborah sang in the first community choir when she was 19 and the group did a reunion concert with some other groups. There are few words that can bring the experience justice. This was my first real-life gospel choir experience and it was so sweet. The music was so full of energy and life and there was hand-clapping and foot stomping and amen’ing. I took a little bit of video to try to capture some of it. The quality isn’t great, but the woman in the gold hat is the one whose birthday we were celebrating. I can only hope to have that much love, energy, and gusto when I am 75. She is the one in the gold hat below.

Moving into some reflections on the week as a whole, one of the differences this week was the interaction I had with a lot of people in the community. Last time, I was with the same crowd for the whole week, but this time, I saw new people every day. I was much more immersed into the life and culture of people than last time. I walked their neighborhoods doing outreach, went to choir rehearsals and concerts, and drove their streets. Again, things that are difficult to put into words and sometimes better left for individuals to figure out on their own. I think last time was a lot of me realizing my own prejudices and assumptions about people who were different than me. But this time, with those realizations in mind, I was able to start getting rid of them and building a new framework for how I see the world and the people who live in it. When I was talking to Deborah about race issues, she talked about how she has learned never to assume anything of anyone she doesn’t know – good or bad, black or white. She shared how she has come to learn that white people can be kind and black people can be rude; and how it all goes back to your spirit – if you are mean-spirited, it doesn’t matter what color your skin is. And mean-spirited people come in all colors. I was a little disappointed not to have gotten more formal clinical time with people this week, but in hindsight, I think the foundation laid by some of these more overarching principles is even more important. I remember last time I was writing my post-trip post and really struggling with the “now what” question of how I would use what I learned. I have a few things in mind for the “now what” question at the conclusion of this trip..but am not quite sure about them yet. What I do know is that I am comforted to know I will be back again in January with a group from school. I am already excited for more learning and experiences and New Orleans fare. Lastly, I cannot say how grateful I am to those of you who read and support and encourage my “project” of throwing myself into the hood and seeing what goes down. I appreciate your willingness to read and listen and to allow yourselves to be maddened and saddened by the same things I struggle with while I am here. These experiences continue to change me and I hope that it has created an opportunity for positive change in each of you.

Some Thoughts on "Getting There"

So this morning is my last entry from New Orleans. I'll be leaving tomorrow morning and probably do one more post on the plane on the way home to detail today's activities (Health fair for National Hispanic HIV Awareness Day, and outreach on Canal Street), and some thoughts on the week in general. Before jumping the gun on that though, here are some things from yesterday...

Today's post includes a lot of different things, both an acknowledgment of my own lack of understanding of the world, and yet progress toward it. And, some excitement about the fact that I can now "drive like I live here" There's a piece by slam poet Bradley Hathaway called "Manly Man." While my purpose for using this quote has nothing to do with the general idea of the poem, one of the lines is this: "Like David I want to be a man after God's own heart. I'm not there yet but I'm past the start." I think this summarizes 2 things that I am always grateful for and areas where I am always forced to grow when I am here. First, I do hope to be someone who really seeks God and seeks to be who God wants me to be, and the influence of Bruce and Deborah, combined with an opportunity to live out my faith and committment to it, allow me to grow in that way. Second, I like the idea of not yet being who we want to be, but being past the start. I know I have so much more to learn and understand, but I am glad for the opportunity that is presented to me here to get past the start. So now, thoughts on "getting there".

I spent a lot of time in the morning packing condoms and literature for today's health fair, and in the afternoon I went out to do marketing with 3 of the other HIV workers. We went down to the French Quarter and put informational flyers about our program on the cars parked on the streets and saw some things that were both interesting and infuriating...ahh New Orleans.

I would like to preface the following with a quote from "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings" by Maya Angelou (1969). After having spent some time as a runaway, and having to return home and to school in the fall, she writes: "without willing it, I had gone from being ignorant of being ignorant to being aware of being aware. And the worst part of my awareness was that I didn't know what I was aware of." As soon as I read this, it resonated with me immediately, with the combination of what I learned last time and during this trip, I am overwhelmingly aware of my own ignorance, and it is something I do not entirely know how to explain or handle.

In one of my classes "Diversity & Oppression" we have been reading a book called "Urban Injustice: How Ghettos Happen" (Hilfiker, 2003) and, as it's subtitle implies, it explains the process that forms American ghettos. It actually is really interesting and makes a lot of sense. I am going to do my best to summarize it and then tell you how I know it's true. One of the major points of the book explains how the construction of major highways, particularly roads that are literally high above street level, are a source of the segregation that contributes to the formation of ghettos. When a new highway is built, it brings traffic up out of the city, taking business away from mom and pop shops. Also, it requires that many houses and businesses be torn down for building. Last, it creates a physical divider between two places. As time goes on, whichever side started with more money or white people is better able to maintain itself, and prospers, while the other side becomes more run down, until after a while, the two sides are total opposites.

When I read this, it was the first time I had thought about it, and it made sense, but yesterday I saw it in living color. Ask me if I was mad. So, we started out at the corner of Esplanade and Claiborne, which are downtown near the French Quarter. We parked right under I-10. I had drove to the parking lot from the same side of the city as I have been staying this week. While it does have its nice areas, it is definitely more poor, more "ghetto", and more black than what I saw on the other side of I-10 yesterday. On one side of the highway, were a couple gas stations and little food marts. There were mainly African Americans around, including some who looked rather disheveled and one who felt it appropriate and necessary to relieve herself right in front of all the traffic by the side of the road. (Only in New Orleans..) However, once we started walking away from I-10, the scenery quickly changed. If you aren't familiar with New Orleans and it's politics and oppression, the French Quarter is like the crown of the city. It is guarded from the river with a super-high, super-thick levee, while some areas have a dirt hill. It experienced very little if any flooding when the rest of the city was under water. So we start walking away from I-10 and here's what we see...

-HUGE houses. Maybe not real big by upstate-NY standards, but about 4 or 5 times the size of a shotgun house and most were 2 or 3 stories.

-Everybody Here White - As was so well captured by the girl in the camp program over the summer, the color difference was crazy. White people everywhere and very few other colors around.

-Hurricane? - No, not the drink on Bourbon Street, but Katrina. I think I saw 1 or 2 houses with the Xs on them with who inspected the house, the date, and if they found anywone. I saw one run-down building with the tarp shreds still on the roof. Other than that, no sign of a hurricane, when the rest of the city is covered with empty lots, abandoned and dilapidated houses. Ew.

So after we handed out the flyers for quite a while, we headed back to our cars and this is where my other excitement comes in. When we do outreach everyone drives separately so the workers can go home at the end of the day. This translates to me driving Deborah's Lexus. This is frightening for two reasons: a Lexus? those suckers aren't cheap. Navigation? please. I use my GPS to get around Horseheads and I have lived there my whole life. However, Pastor Bruce told me yesterday that I can't be afraid - "You gotta drive like you live here, not slow like an old lady" Okay.. So anyway, the excitement was that I drove to the HIV building, then to the meeting spot for marketing, then back to Bruce and Deborah's yesterday without getting lost and without the GPS or any major accidents. Woo!

A little later we enjoyed a hearty helping of New Orleans Red Beans n Rice! which, is delicious and my favorite : ). I went after that with Deborah to a choir reunion rehearsal for a choir she sang in when she was 19. She and some others from the group have stayed in touch and are doing a concert tonight to honor the woman who started it and is turning 75. It was great. I was amazed at how great they sounded and how much energy and sound can come from a small grup of 8 or 9 people. I also got to play for a bit with a little girl there who asked me if I was a grandma...not quite...not quite..but she was fun.

That's about it for yesterday..today I am pumped for the Health Fair. I get warm fuzzies out of educating and empowering people to help themselves, in this case protect themselves from HIV. Thanks for reading : )

"Stay in the race - that's where it's at"

I would like to start outright and just say that this one might make some of you mad. I would also like to invite you to keep reading anyway and hear me out on some things.

I am not sure I ever gave a real clear overview of the program that I am working with and the work that they do. Back in the mid-1980s, a member of St. John #5 (the church I am working with, which is lead by Pastor Bruce) died from AIDS. After her death, Bruce found out that she was ashamed to tell him that she had AIDS and was afraid that, if he knew, she would be kicked out of the church, which was heartbreaking for such a loving person to hear. Troubled by this, he decided it was time to take a public stand - both to begin an active fight against the spread of HIV/AIDS in the community, and to let people know that if they did have it, they would not be condemned by his church. Shortly after beginning their fight against HIV/AIDS, St. John's was kicked out of the Baptist denomination because of the distribution of condoms as part of its work. Pastor Bruce did and still does feel strong enough about what they are doing to carry on anyway. Now, the HIV/AIDS program conducts free and confidential HIV tests, distributes contraceptives and educational materials in the community, and does presentations at health fairs, churches, schools and other organizations. Each day, the program workers, in teams of two, go to various neighborhoods on a rotating schedule to distribute condoms to individuals (which in Louisiana have to be 18).

So, yesterday afternoon, I went out with two of the outreach workers and passed out condoms for the afternoon. (Again, this is the part where some of you are invited to swallow whatever you're thinking, and bear with me) Now, I was well aware that this was a part of the program and what I would do while I was here. And the issue a lot of people take with this is that it seems to almost promote people having a lot of sex with a lot of partners. Right? right. That's why the church was kicked out of their denomination for it. So, while the hooking up is not something that I am game for supporting, the following are reasons why I'd be glad to pass out condoms forever..

-Remember the post on Monday? Remember the pain that 30 year old woman was in? Remember how she was dying a slow, painful, and terrible death? Remember how her kids are going to be stuck without a mother or a positive family member to raise them? Okay, well I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

-There are a lot of teenage girls with babies here. While this is not necessarily unique to this area, it is particularly difficult for the girls here. In Elmira/Horseheads, if a girl has a baby, BOCES has a classroom she can go to for school to finish high school, where there is a daycare (free) right next door. There are no programs like that here. Girls are ashamed and their families are equally ashamed. They don't graduate, can't get jobs, and are hard pressed to find a decent man to be with them once they have a baby, which, is a "forever" thing.

The truth, whether we like it or not, is that people, very young, and very old, get involved with each other and terrible diseases get passed around like candy at a parade. I have sort of come the the conclusion that it is really about choosing the lesser of two evils: you hold on to your morality/faith/whatever and hope for abstinence, or you do your best to help people stay healthy, alive, and without pregnancies until they find their way.

All of that being said, I want to share with you what that experience was like. Another time that was really not at all what I thought it'd be, but was good. Also, although I make a very honest attempt to be entirely authentic on this thing, in order to really share what is happening, I am censoring some stuff today because it is also important to me to keep this relatively G-rated, and some things are just not worth repeating. Anyway...

The neighborhood we went to was about 15 miles from the church; it included both apartment buildings and houses. After we parked, we just walked around the neighborhood to places where people were sitting out on porches or hanging out in front yards. Because the outreach happens on a rotating location schedule, most of the people had gotten condoms before and knew who we were; we all wear khaki pants and red polos. We got to the first group - 5 or 6 men, beer and bourbon in hand, as they chatted on the corner. They knew what we were there for, put out both hands, called their friends to come get some, and enjoyed joking with us as we talked with them for a while. Most of the interactions were the same way - you are doing a service to these people: hello, AIDS prevention and FREE STUFF. We walked up to a few groups who shouted "hey! it's the condom ladies." While I never thought I'd be referred to as a "condom lady," it was good to know that the people knew why we were there, appreciated the service, and accepted us into their community. Without retelling each interaction, these are a few highlights and my thoughts on the experience.

First, we all know, and I have discussed before, that I am a very white girl working in an almost all-black area. Yesterday was no different, except that some of the residents were Hispanic, but you get the point. And while I am often super-conscious of this fact while I am here, it is hardly mentioned, except by 5 year old kids ("everybody here white"), and isn't a big deal. But yesterday, we walked up to another group of men, of a variety of ages, and an older guy asked if this was our job. I explained to him that it was a job for the other two but I was just a volunteer for the week and told him I am in school in New York. He asked me about that, and if I had had a po-boy yet (Google it). Then he asked me how I liked New Orleans. I said I did, explained that I had been a few times before, and he asked if I was scared of being in the 'hood. I said well, not really anymore. He says: "what were you scared of? all the black people? getting shot?" Yep, take that one in. Not only did he call me out on my whiteness, but called racism what it is. I told him I was getting used to it and he said, "good, we ain't gonna hurt you or kidnap you; we're just people" Incredible. Another conversation that was, for me, a "God appointment." I always knew I was aware of the white/black thing and how difficult it can be for me sometimes to be the minority by such a huge margin, but no one else has ever mentioned it here. It actually happened two other times yesterday, one of which was minor in reference to the music I was listening to (Hey there Delilah), and one in a line not worth repeating. However, any of these things weren't made with a "what is your white self doing here?" tone, but in a "your white self is welcome here" tone, and for those of you who have really hung in there with me during this and the last experience in New Orleans, you understand the difference and what that means to me. Again, I don't want to make light of things and pretend that "there's not racism in the world" or lame things like that. I am just saying that my faith in progress toward unity and away from hate and fear, is increasing.

Related to that, particularly the idea of fear, it was odd, but good, yesterday that I didn't feel unsafe at all. While I don't know that I would ever feel comfortable wandering around the projects in Elmira, I felt totally safe in the neighborhood yesterday. I think sometimes the world cons us into being afraid of people and things that really, we don't need to fear. While I wouldn't do anything stupid, like walk around some of these areas at night by myself, I was really amazed at how okay I was with all of it. Again, you're in a red-shirt gaggle of people, and the neighborhood folks know what you are there for - a service, and that helps, but it was incredibly liberating.

The other odd thing to deal with was that, according to Louisiana law, we could only distribute to people who were 18 years old. You don't check IDs, but all the school kids wear uniforms so it's pretty obvious. However, girls younger than 18 get pregnant and boys younger than 18 know all about hooking up. A lot of women that we passed them out to said "I have 4 boys, bring it on." And again, your heart breaks, but it's a choice between two tough things. I mean, in an ideal world, there would be more than just distribution, and we, the church/program, would have some programs in place to help kids get to a place where they weren't doing that stuff, but right now, it isn't there.

Those are most of my general thoughts, and the interactions which are appropriate to pass on to others in a mass-media sort of way. I hope it gives you something to think about, and even if you are really opposed to that activity, I hope you were able to hear me out on my support of it.

The title today actually came from "Hour of Power" last night, which is a service held at the church every Wednesday for people just to share what God is doing in their lives. I shared that, 5 years ago, when I saw the city underwater during a chapel service at Roberts, I was moved to tears and knew for the first time that God was asking me to go and do something really specific. Back then, I never would have imagined that 5 years later, I would find myself here for the 4th time, living with New Orleans residents, hearing their stories, loving them, and passing out condoms on their street corners. Later during the service, one of the guys who was talking said something about how life isn't about winning, it's just about staying in the race. I continue to be in awe of Pastor Bruce and his willingness to stay in a race that seems to be an unending, losing battle sometimes. I think that it's a good encouragement for all of us. Even when the program money is VERY limited, diseases keep spreading, drugs keep getting shot, this guy doesn't quit. He has a vision of better things for people and isn't quitting on them, and I hope I don't either.

I think that is about all for now. Again, thank you for working through another long post, and for being willing to be challenged by some of these things.

Succotash, Hoola-Boolah, and the Fumblerooski

Truth be told, yesterday was less eventful than I care to re-live via blog writing. However, there are a couple things worth writing, so here, in no real order are some thoughts, photos, etc.

-If you didn't read yesterday's post about Monday, go do that..now. Thanks : )

-Many of you have read in my previous posts about the insanity that is the New Orleans attempt to rid the city of low income housing. Excuse me while I vomit. If you want to get me fired up, this is the topic to get the job done. Basically, before the storm there was a HUGE housing project right across the street from the church I am working with this week. Although there was a lot of gang violence, drug activity, domestic violence, etc., it was in a great location because Pastor Bruce was right there, getting people clothing, food, HIV tests, counseling, GED's, and some Jesus when he could. You name it, this guy did all he could to get people's needs met. Then came Katrina, which was really just a good excuse for city officials to tear down the project in its entirety, despite very minimal damage, and it's sturdy brick structure. Now, it has been replaced be "mixed income" housing that most of us middle class, educated folk could hardly afford, let alone a single mom with multiple children to feed on a minimum wage. It makes me sick. So, here is a photo of what has replaced the project; nice building but people, do not be decieved, this is basically a fat insult to humanity and anything that is good in the world. (Josh - ask me if I'm mad)


Ew. Now, on to other things...

I took some other pictures yesterday just to kind of orient you so you have some mental images of where I'm at. So, right across the street from the obscenity pictured above, are these two buildings:



The white building is a double-wide shot-gun house where the GED and summer camp programs are held. The yellow building, a single shotgun house, is where the HIV/AIDS program is..if you didn't get that from the sign in the photo.

-Now would be a good time to say that the title for the blog today is basically pointless. I did have succotash for dinner last night, with a lot of hotsauce. Dear mom, I ate lima beans and survived : ). Then, during dinner I told Deborah that I set up a facebook page for Bruce yesterday. Hilarious conversation ensued when we told her all about how his page was getting lit up by his fans in New York. The Fumblerooski was Pastor Bruce's favorite phrase of Sunday when he was heckling people about the Saints losing. He is a fan of any team that beats them. More on that perhaps another time.

I have high hopes for productivity today. Bruce said we have some more people to visit, which I am always grateful for when I am here. And tonight - hour of power. This church doesn't mess around and on Wednesdays they have hour of power as a time for people to share what God is doing in their lives. There may only be 15 people at church on Sunday but you can bet your bottom dollar they are at Bible study again on Monday, again on Tuesday, and at hour of power on Wednesday. There's a lot more love and faith and energy in that church than I have seen in some huge churches. Score: Jesus-1, World-0. Game on.

Lastly, one thing the church does to help cover it's funding needs is restore and sell classic cars. This has been one of my sets of wheels this week:


That is really about all today..ha. I am hoping some of you are at least grateful it didn't invoke tears, but I thank you for reading nonetheless.

"Feel it, Girl! Feel it!"

So I am thinking that morning blogging is the routine for this trip, which has its benefits and its drawbacks. First, I am not missing quality kitchen time with Deborah, and I get morning coffee. However, with a little more time to process things on my own, it may be a little different than last time. At any rate, I am glad to have another opportunity to share with you what is happening in New Orleans AND to be doing it from a different coffee shop, one that has frappuccinos : ) and they actually taste good : )...okay..on with the important things.

Yesterday was a day where I continued to be blown away at the moments that people were willing to share with me, whether they are people here that I know or people that I have just met. I spent a lot of the day yesterday with Pastor Bruce, which was great because during my last trip I didn't see him much. We drove out by the lake to a nursing home to see a woman who is dying from full-blown AIDS. Anything I thought this experience would be like, it wasn't. I am not sure what I expected to see or feel, and it is again a dificult, but neccessary experience to share, so bear with me.

On the way over, Bruce shared with me that this woman is only in her 30s, has 2 kids (11 & 13), and has already lost a sister to AIDS just before the storm. She is part of a family that makes some poor decisions and, despite her love for Jesus, she cannot seem to escape the family pattern. She was brought to the nursing home a few months ago, because her HIV had advanced into AIDS when her family sold her medicine for money or drugs and then convinced her to go to a voodoo "healer." By the time she realized she wasn't healed, it was too late.

When we got to the nursing home, Pastor Bruce walked in the room and then went to use the restrooom before I came in and was introduced. So, I am standing in the hallway thinking that if it were me, I wouldn't want some stranger awkwardly staring at me in this state. So I stood for a minute before I heard a voice say "oh, come on in." A powerful invitation from a person in a desperate state. In inviting me into her room, she allowed me to share her space and her pain for quite a while. I walked in and introduced myself and it's hard to describe what I saw and felt in that moment. When AIDS is taking over, you lose everything very slowly. Most of her hair had fallen out, but she had enough left that you could see it used to be long and beautiful. Her arms were thin enough all the way to her shoulders that I could have encircled them with my thumb and finger and still had wiggle room. Her legs, constantly cramped and in pain, were bent up under the electric blanket she keeps on high to keep warm. Not only was she a physical mess, but she either lives in a state of constant pain or an odd sort of drug-induced "high."

We sat with her for a few minutes, Pastor Bruce encouraging her to eat, and her telling us about her kids. I asked her about her son's new football team and her face lit up to talk about him and her daughter. Pastor Bruce convinced her to eat some strawberry shortcake, and as she ate it lying down, the strawberry sauce dripped all over. I got some paper towel, and in another way that is hard to describe, she invited me into her space of pain, vulnerability, and inability, as she let me wipe it away for her. Now, I have heard that business in Matthew about "the least of these" for the entirety of my life, but now I think I get it. Not in a "look at me doing good things" way at all, but in a "how incredibly humbling to be invited as a stranger into that place with another human being" way. In feeling/thinking all of these things, I made my best attempt to still be present in that moment with her, but it was tough.

A few minutes later, her son and her father came in to visit for a while. Again, if I were a 13 year old boy dealing with what this kid is dealing with, both related to his mom and the rest of his family, I would not want some stranger sharing that space with me. But he came in and talked with us and his mom for a while before we left. All of this is terribly hard to explain, and all the words in the world probably wouldn't do it justice, but I was really grateful for it and though I'm not quite sure what to "do" with it yet, I appreciate it nonetheless.

After leaving, Bruce and I did some errands and he took me on another driving tour of different places in the city - more condemned projects that are being torn down and replaced with termite-friendly wooden buildings, the city mission and the streets that the homeless people have been pushed to so as not to make the folks at the Superdome downtown feel uncomfortable, and he told me more than I ever knew about how and where to get drugs at the corner stores in the city, including the one just down the street from my other coffee spot. As we drove, he also invited me into his space as he shared part of his own story with me. Gang-banger gone Jesus-lover, he told me about growing up and people he had loved and lost and about the committment that drives him to do what he does each day. This story, similar to Deborah's last time, I feel compelled to hold carefully and to myself, but I am grateful for his sharing of it with me.

After he dropped me back off at "home" I went to the store with Deborah. A side note - I have found the grocery store to be a type of "racial eden" here in New Orleans. Everybody gotta eat so any time we go to Rouse's, there's white people and black people and hispanic people and kids and old folks and rich folks and poor folks and it's great. While it is not asking anyone to interact or build groundbreaking relationship bridges, it is still nice to see, especially from eyes that are incredibly conscious of racial issues.

When we got back to the house, Deborah and I began quite the cooking charade. As I said in previous blogs, one of my favorite things is to cook with others while I am here. We have good conversations, are less formal with each other, and there's just something that's right about cooking together. One of the things we were making was salmon and she had me prepare the marinade, which as most of you know, is a feat. If it isn't ketchup or hotsauce, I don't have a clue. So, I am pouring mustard and then some honey into the pan and she is handing me all of these spices while I'm thinking, "Deborah, do you know I have no clue?" And this is the exchange that took place..
-I dash once or twice "Is that good?"
-"No, maybe a little more"
-"Okay..how bout that?"
-"Feel it, girl. Feel it"
-"You mean like, touch it?"
-Deborah laughing at my ridiculousness, I am no Rachel Ray.

Ha. All of this to say that though my mouth appreciates cajun cooking, my skills have a bit to be desired still. We had a good laugh as she tried to explain how I could "feel" cooking and then carried on to make the dish below:


I picked that quote for my title today partly because it is funny and classic "kristen in the kitchen" but also because it seems to really capture my New Orleans time. While I am here to learn and hopefully help a few people while I am at it, I think a lot of the value is in learning to just "feel it." Mike and I talk sometimes about "bearing witness" and just being with people in those moments - such as being with a woman dying from AIDS - and I think being able to "feel it" is the first part in being able to do anything "social work-ish" to work to heal that with them. Part of my drive with Pastor Bruce yesterday was spent having the same thoughts. We talked some about how even though it is uncomfortable and sad to drive by the homeless people downtown, it is necessary because we so often refuse to "feel it" and are more apt to pretend like it just isn't there or isn't our problem to worry about. And I think sometimes when you share these things, whether it's with an individual or a community, it might meet their needs more than we realize.

After our "feel it" cooking time, Deborah and I left it all for later and headed to Bible study, which is more a teaching/preaching time, than what some of you might think of as traditional Bible study. While I am usually not one for taking pictures during church, I took one last night just as another way to "share" this experience with you. This is Pastor Bruce, preaching about loving equally and about being committed to Jesus, which was particularly meaningful after our talk earlier in the day about his own committment to service.


After church, we headed back for a very late dinner, but it was delicious! and called it a day. Again, another very long blog entry, but I hope reading it was worth it for you. Thank you, as always, for being a part of this with me.

A Church and a Bar Room on Every Block

Good Morning! It has been a little while since my Detroit post, partly because of a lack of internet access and partly because I had other things to do. So, here it is. (As always, I just got done and realized it's pretty long and unorganized, but hopefully I can update each day now so they will be shorter..and hopefully include some pictures!)

First, it is really good to be back. As I sit here at the cafe down the street, drinking nasty coffee, I have this odd feeling like I never left. Things are just as I remember them, except it is not unbearably hot this time.

When I arrived on Saturday, Pastor Bruce and Deborah were out of town at a classic car show in Biloxi/Gulfport so I stayed with Deborah's sister, Chuckie, who also ran the summer camp program I worked with during my July trip. When we got back to her house, (which we passed a million times during my January PDA trip..odd) I had a while to nap and read, which was appreciated. My current read for this trip is "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings," the first autobiography by Maya Angelou and it is great. A good mix of history and personal stories that I am really appreciating and learning a lot from, especially in the bigger picture of a lot of what I learned/struggled with in regards to race issues during my last trip.

A little later, Chuckie let me help with dinner, which was a real blessing for a lot of reasons. First, if she knew what happens when I'm in the kitchen, she would have said no : ). For real though, I was so grateful for my cooking time with Deborah last time just because it was always a good fellowship and conversation time for us. So, Chuckie and I cooked a delicious meal that reminded me how much I love southern food. She talked with me about her family, shared some of her "storm story" with me, and gave me some good cooking lessons. (Get ready for Cajun kitchen time Jon!) We made an excellent potato salad - it had a lot of spices so it had a little "kick" to it - and fish fry. As most of you know, I am mostly a vegetarian, but when it comes to southern hospitality, some of that doesn't last. After dinner, I got a nice little surprise and got to see Robert!! If you read last time, Robert is the one who made 3 during summer camp, but is about the size of a 6 year old now. If you are a new reader, it is worth back-logging through the old blogs for his birthday cake picture. He is super cute. That pretty much rounded out Saturday.

Yesterday was great. I love Sundays in New Orleans. I went to the Sunday school class Chuckie taught and then Pastor Bruce and Deborah came back from their trip early so that they could be at church. An incredible couple of hours, that are hard to describe and that the blog can't do justice to, but it was good. After that, we went to do Sunday visits, like last time, and like Bruce does every Sunday. We visted "Ma" who practically raised Pastor Bruce, and has a beauty about her that is hard to describe, and that she probably doesn't see. We then went to see another woman that I met last time I was here, who is too sick to be out much and go to church. When we got there we were also greeted by another woman who finally moved back home this week! 5 years later and she is back in the city that is her home, so we were really excited about that. We watched some more church and then the Saints game (which was pretty sad...), before heading out for one more visit.

The last visit was with a guy Pastor Bruce grew up with, who had been pretty involved in the drug/gang/violence scene until about 7 years ago he was shot, paralyzing him from the chest down. After that, he got himself together and, partially for reasons beyond his control, abandoned that lifestyle and has been raising his daughter, finding some hope somewhere else. Another reminder that our lives can change at any moment and that no one is ever beyond redemption. I am always so amazed at how easily Pastor Bruce can look beyond whatever has happened in someone's past, or even what they are still doing, and just love them. I know part of it is because someone did that for him and, according to him, saved his life, but wow..talk about laying down your pride.

Sunday is the meat of my thought/reflection stuff for this entry. I am always amazed at how church time here makes me appreciate all of the things I usually take for granted. Chuckie reminded each of us that God holds the world in his hands, and that each day that we wake up to live out and each breath we take in, is really a gift. Sometimes we get so caught up in our busyness or our hope for Lazarus-level miracles, that we forget to appreciate the small stuff. I had some other God-thoughts in relation to Sunday School/church time yesterday, but, like last time, I think some things are left for us to work though on our own.

One of the statements that did really catch me, however, was that in New Orleans, there is "a church and a bar room on every block." Now, having been here a bit, I believe this to be more true that we might hope. And although it was used as an illustration for another point, it is in some ways a very good illustration of this city and my experience of it thus far. (I want to preface all of this by stating outright that no church is perfect, and that it is not always a bad thing to be at a bar, and to remind you that this is just one person's interpretation of that which is observable.) However, the hope, community, and goodness represented by the church, and the brokenness, addiction, and sadness represented by the bars are, for me, an illustration of the paradoxical ways of this city. As many of you know, the place has a history of political corruption, only exacerbated in the post-Katrina years as it is contributing to people still not being able to rebuild and move home. The people of the city seem to be plagued by poverty, violence, HIV/AIDS, abuse, and more. They are heartbreaking stories to hear, and it can be a heartbreaking place to be. That being said, the people I have met here understand "family" "faith" and "joy" in ways I can only imagine and hope for. When I was cooking with Chuckie, in her house that is right next door to that of other family members and just down the street from Deborah and Bruce's, she told me all about the big family dinners they have during the holidays and we ate in the biggest dining room I had ever seen, built to accommodate their family. The sisters in their family seem to be in constant communication - whether just to shoot the breeze, talk about comunity issues, or have Miss Alice pick up fish fry from the store for us. Don't get me wrong, I love my family and we have done a lot of great things together, but I hope when I grow up my siblings and I can be that close and my sister and I can "compete" for who makes the best whatever at Christmastime (though we sort of know we will be lucky if it's edible).

In the same way, as I mentioned before, church here always makes me so much more appreciative of everything. I am always amazed, especially yesterday, at the amount of energy and love that flows through such a tiny church with only about 15 worshippers. The place was full of hope and energy, with more Amens than you can imagine. They know who holds them in His hand, and know that whatever they go through, the key word is "through" and that they will come out on the other side. Another difficult experience to try to explain in words, but it was really good stuff yesterday.

We finished off Sunday with another trip to Bruce's favorite buffet. Again, less-than-vegetarian ways on the trip invited me to have my annual crawfish and some shrimp, but mostly I was excited about macaroni & cheese, and the bananas in that red sauce (I hope someone knows what I am talking about..its delicious). I talked with Pastor Bruce about what he has planned for me for the week and was promised that he has 2 months of work for me to do this week, which includes hospital/nursing home visits with some of the people he knows with HIV/AIDS, which I am looking forward to because one of the most valuable parts about these trips is hearing people's stories. And, I'm going to work some on their website, which will be interesting, but is a good tool for them to have.

All in all, I am feeling much less "turtled" than last time, despite feeling a little anxious about what the week has in store. There are a lot of other things floating around in my brain right now..but they aren't quite ready for blogging yet. This entry is not the most exciting and probably didn't invoke tears for you, but they should get better as I get back into the grove. Thank you, as always, for being part of this experience with me and for reading these blogs that always seem to be terribly long..but I do appreciate it and I hope you find them to be worth the time.

Here We Go..Again

So, if you are reading this, you already know I am on my way back to being “turtled” in New Orleans. (If you are a new reader, I hope you will take some time to read the past trip blogs, especially the “Here We Go” blog from the first trip, and check out the pictures) I have spent a lot of time in the past few days doing more reflecting than anticipating. Just like the last trip, I only have a general idea of what I will be doing when I get to New Orleans, but not a lot of details about what that will look like. I guess because it is hard to think forward, sometimes I find myself looking back, on a few things in particular. It’s funny how much things can change in 3 months. When I went to New Orleans in July, I was really in the midst of a lot of change in my own life and God really used my experiences in New Orleans to remind me what it meant to live purposefully and I was able to really grow in a lot of ways, and am grateful for those of you who allowed yourselves to struggle through some of those things with me. As the result of a lot of what I experienced, I left New Orleans in July feeling really unfinished with whatever I was connected to that city to do. And, here we are...

While I do not necessarily have specific expectations for this trip, I hope it will be equally disorienting, challenging, frustrating, joyful, peaceful, and authentic as the July trip was. Specifically, I will be working with the HIV & AIDS outreach and testing program coordinated by Saint John’s #5 Faith Church. This is the same church that coordinates the children’s camp I worked with during my July trip, and the same HIV/AIDS program I spent a little time with in July. I’ll again be staying with Pastor Bruce and his wife, who were so incredibly open and welcoming during my last trip – sharing their home, their lives, and their stories with me for the week. I am grateful to be spending more time with people who really understand what it means to say “yes” to service, and to be “hope at work” in their community. I am hoping to put some of my social work skills to good use and am hopeful that the things I have been learning in my non-profit management class will allow me to see the program from that dimension as well. I have spent the past few months trying to get ready for this in a lot of different ways, and I am not entirely sure how well I really could prepare myself for the unknown, but I am trusting in God’s power and grace to fill in the gaps.

One of my favorite and most effective ways to share my experience with others and really invite you all in to what happens for me in Louisiana, I like to share stories, songs, pictures, and other multi-media pieces that in some way speak to my experience and provide you with another way to understand it. So, for my first multi-media reference for this trip, I want to invite you to YouTube, iTunes, or otherwise find access to a song called “Change in the Making” by Addison Road. It is a song about how each of us is engaged in the process of becoming who we are supposed to be and how God is using our present to redeem our past. Through the past few months of making a lot of changes in my life and finding my footing again, I have found this song to be a good reminder that “everyday I’m closer to who I’m meant to be” and my last trip to New Orleans was a big part of that, and I am hopeful that this week will continue to change me.

If you are new to the experience of reading my ridiculously long blogs, welcome, and I hope you enjoy. I am grateful for all of the encouragement, prayers, support, and dialogue that each of you brings just by reading this and sharing in my observations, joys, and challenges.

Round 2

So, as I had hoped would happen at the end of my first "Turtled in New Orleans" experience, I am going back for more. In one month, I will be heading back to the 7th Ward to work with Pastor Bruce and others in the HIV/AIDS testing and outreach center. If you read the blog during my first trip, you will remember that I spent some time getting familiar with the HIV/AIDS program and sat in on a few tests. While this was partially overwhelming and a good learning experience, I left New Orleans feeling as though that was a stone that had only partially been turned over, like I had only seen the tip of the iceberg. With this in mind, I returned home and had a lot of time to think about and talk with my supervisor and our field coordinator at school about going back again this fall to work specifically with the HIV/AIDS program. As I noted in a previous post, the city of New Orleans is ranked among the top 5 highest infected cities in the country for HIV/AIDS. In addition to this, there is still a huge social stigma attached to a virus that people are uneducated about and do not understand. I have spent some time this fall trying to figure out if I can handle another week of being really stretched and have come to the conclusion that, not only can I handle it, but that I really need to go.

Now, it is just time to prepare myself as best as I can for whatever might happen when I get there. I went last week to a training offered by the Southern Tier AIDS Program and it was definitely time well spent. In addition to learning how to conduct the HIV tests and practicing that skill, we also spent time talking about the emotional side of a positive test result and how to be with people as they work through it. While I know that won't be easy, I can't shake the feeling that it's something I have to do.

After the training, I had a good talk with one of the workers there who was really supportive and excited about what I shared with her about the New Orleans program. She gave me piles of training manuals that I have been reading ever since, a load of brochures about all kinds of things, and offered more if I needed them. I explained to her that I was really appreciative of that because my knowledge of HIV/AIDS, drug use, and STD's ends at about a half-day lecture in health class. We got talking about college and when I mentioned to her that part of my unfamiliarity with all of this was due to my Christian college bubble experience, she shared with me that she is also a Jesus lover and said "I think if Jesus were on the earth today, he would be right here." So, if I needed any more of a sense of call to do what I'm about to do in a few weeks, that was it. Now, I am going to spend the next few weeks reading books and watching movies (which, if you have suggestions PLEASE share them) that will help make all of the factual information in the manuals become more personal so that I am better able to serve while I am there.

I hope you will all continue reading in the next few weeks and particularly when I am there (October 9th-16th) so that together we can keep learning about a world very different from our own, but full of people not terribly different from ourselves.

Licking Mayonaise, Good Coffee, and "Everybody Here White"

So I guess my "final thoughts on doin' good in the 'hood" were not really my final thoughts. I also thought that my blogging days were over and was semi-excited about it, and yet, here I sit..back at it. (The great thing, however, is that this time I am back at home-base for all great computer work: Panera Bread) The days since coming home have presented a new set of challenges, frustrations, realizations, and a certain amount of mayonaise, all of which I could live without. But, in an effort to continue to effectively process the experience as a whole, and to help rid myself of some cognitive disonance, the blog lives on.

For starters, there are some good things about being home.
1. Good Coffee! I was thrilled on Saturday to have Ericka pick me up and take me directly to Panera so Paul could hook us up with coffee that wasn't gross. And then, I may have come again later that day with my dad...because I am nuts about Panera. On top of that, I have had good coffee in Ithaca twice this week - nothing really tops the Milky Way at Stella's. Despite the obvious health detriments, it is good stuff and I am grateful to have my caffiene situation remedied.

2. I am glad to be back in closer proximity to my family and friends. It was good to see them/you after such a beastly week. I am grateful for time with my family, quality de-briefing time with my field supervisors from school, and am excited for more family/friend time this weekend.

3. As much as this will also fall under the "challenges" about being home list, I am semi-excited to start tackling the "what now?" question. I have about a million things to get started on and people to talk to and projects to be working on in order to keep the momentum going, so that is helpful.

There are others, but now, challenges...
1. Everybody Here White - Now, when I was in New Orleans, you may remember one of the kids in the program saying this to me, which was really odd because I could count the number of white people I saw in a day on one hand usually. And as confusing and strange and (sometimes) uncomfortable as it was to have been in such an extreme racial minority for a week, I sort of got used to it, and in a lot of situations, sort of forgot about my whiteness/their blackness after a while. And, even though it was sort of awkward, the awkwardness became comfortable, and I appreciated that stretching element of the trip. But now, everybody here, pretty much, really is white. And it's wierd. I am continuing to struggle with the balance between celebrating our differences - racial and otherwise - without turning them into something that divides us.

2. Licking Mayonaise - First, mayo is disgusting, so no - I have not been licking mayonaise. But, yesterday before heading to coach, I had some free time and, in an effort to take better care of myself mentallly, I figured I'd just watch t.v. for a bit instead of doing something productive. Since I don't have real cable, my options were limited to c-span and the Tyra Banks show. So, I watched Tyra Banks pay a man $10 to lick mayonaise, then pay a woman $10 to lick the 4th floor men's room plunger. Really?! (I sometimes wonder why I admit to these things online..) But, sitting there watching it, besides being absolutely disgusted by mayonaise and plungers and the fact that people will lick them for $10, I had an "oh shoot" sort of moment. I spent last week doing and learning and growing so much, that to come back is always tough becuase, even if you are doing something other than watching people lick gross things on t.v., you feel like you are significantly less productive than you had previously been. And that sucks.

3. "Getting It" - This falls, I guess, halfway between the "good things" list and the "challenges" list. It is always difficult after experiences such as last week to talk to people about it because, even with all the time and a huge vocabulary, it is still hard to communicate to others what you experienced and were challenged by. Additionally, when people have not been adequately prepped to deal with some of those challenges (ie: the fact that it is widely believed that levees were bombed to hurt the poor-who are primarily black, and save the rich, who are primarily white), they are less than thrilled to talk with you about it or to hear it. So, that is the frustrating part. However, the "good things" part of this is two-fold. First, having the blog for people to help experience things as I did, so there is a reference point for post-trip conversations, has been really helpful. Second, I cannot say enough how thankful I am for my field coordinator and supervisor who (have both been to New Orleans in the same area and "get it") have both had ridiculously long meetings with me this week to help me process and make sense of the week, and helped me find ways to answer the "what now?"

And..the "what now?" As I figured, one of the biggest challenges and frustrations about coming back is the "what now" question about what to do with what I have learned and how to keep the momentum going. Here are a couple of ways I am answering that, and I am totally open to some more (s'more?) if you have them.
-More Writing! After coming home I contacted a few journals - both Christian-based and Social Work-based about writing an article for them, which would be a really meaningful way for me to be able to share with others. On a side note, I am not entirely sure that I can condense anything into 1500-2500 words..puh-lease.
-VAN! - One thing I did while I was there was take a sort of informal assessment of how LKNB could continue serving St. John's and their community and it quickly became obvious that additional transportation for their programming would be beneficial and safer for all involved. We don't have any concrete plans yet about what we (LKNB) are going to do, but rest assured, I would love your support in the future in making this happen.
-Turtled in New Orleans v2.0? I am considering going back this fall for round two, this time to focus on the HIV/AIDS program. I had some incredible learning experiences in the short time I worked in that program during this trip, but I think some of the unsettling feelings that I have now are due to that stone being only partially overturned. As "oh shoot" of a moment as it was to sit with people waiting to hear their status, it was really powerful and it is really important work, especially in a community that doesn't quite understand the virus and how to deal with it.
-Commitment to Continuance - Although I am not entirely sure I will be able to continue growing in leaps and bounds in some of the ways I did while i was there, I don't want to lose momentum of the things I have started to think about, so bring on the reading, movies, music, and experiences that will continue to make me uncomfortable and make me think. I am always taking multi-media suggestions for this (and because I choose terrible movies to watch anyway...).

I guess that is all for now. There might be more, and if/when I go again and/or we have a more concrete transportation project plan, I will update on how people can contribute to that.

And, again, thanks to everyone for bearing with me during this week and continuing to help me work through things...

Final Thoughts on "Doin' Good in the 'Hood"

So operation “Turtled in New Orleans” is just about over. As I write this, I am thousands of feet above the muddy waters of the Mississippi, flying home. It has been a whirlwind, that’s for sure. Before commenting anymore on the trip as a whole, a rundown of last night’s and today’s activities…

Yesterday after writing, I walked back “home” to find Deborah cooking another delicious meal – tortellini with a shrimp and crab alfredo sauce – DELICIOUS. I told her after my first bite that I would probably be back next week just so I could have more of her cooking. We ate an early dinner since Bruce was out late and then headed out for a sort of sightseeing and storytelling drive. First we headed to the Mississippi River – the first time in my travels here that I have seen it. It was right around sunset, so it was really pretty. It was also a nice reminder that even amidst the poverty, abuse, violence, and hurricane trauma experienced in the community, there is still potential for peace. It was like a physical reminder of God’s movement through the city.


After the river, we headed over to the lakefront and the area around the 17th Street Canal. In the days after Katrina, Lake Ponchartrain (the bridge across which is 26 miles – MARATHON!?) rushed over the break walls, flooding the area around it terribly. We drove past some of the boathouses by the shore and it was, as always, incredible to see how some look brand new and others look like the storm hit last week. After the lake, we drove down through the garden district, continuing our dinner conversation on diversity, racism, and other related issues. She shared with me a few stories about race-based crimes and other antics that she and the community have experienced and we talked about different stereotypes people hold and the danger presented by those stereotypes. As part of our drive – a shout-out to the “under 30” club from my January NOLA trip – we drove past the grille where I ate free chips and watched a championship Saints game in January. Ahh, nostalgia. After that, we headed over to the home of one of the church members we had visited on Sunday to drop of some puzzles and just check in with her. Then, we headed “home” to see Bruce and talk with him over his dinner.

Over dinner, we had a great conversation, talking about life, God, New Orleans, and sharing stories from years past. They told me all about the camp’s old van, “The Heatbuster” and how, due to malfunctioning doors, Bruce once ran over a kid. It was okay – just dusted him off, fed him, and sent him on his way. Our story time last night was one of those times when no one could stop laughing and it was great. I shared with them some of what I have pondered and learned this week, and they (maybe not knowing I will probably take them up on it) told me to come back anytime, and someday I hope I will.

I spent one last day at the camp program with the kids today. Nothing too exciting, only learning that sometimes 5 year olds really just shouldn’t get to use scissors. We did our usual academic work this morning which was mostly a color-cut-paste extravaganza of entertainment. Then, we had a little more outside time to play and take pictures before heading in for lunch. After lunch was mostly some down time, the teenage workers getting into a fight, and cleaning up for the next week of camp. I went back “home” at the end of the day, got my stuff packed and now, here I am heading to New York.


At the beginning of the trip when I sat in the Philly airport, I really had no idea what to expect. I had tried to coordinate some plans for the work I would be doing ahead of time but planning in New Orleans looks different than planning in New York sometimes. I knew that I would be challenged by a lot of class, race, and diversity issues and situations, but had no idea what it would look like, what I would learn, or where/how I would get these lessons. Because I didn’t know what to expect, I also did not really know what to hope for. I hoped that I would survive, learn a little something, and have some fun, but those are pretty general.

It’s funny because, at the beginning of the week, I was really out of place. I didn’t actually know Pastor Bruce or Deborah very well at all, and they didn’t know me either. It took a few days for us to get used to each other and really start talking, but, as my mom predicted in another post’s earlier comment, I think I made some friends for life. Even though I think really I am the one who benefitted most from all of this, it felt really good to hear Pastor Bruce tell me I had “earned my stripes” and that he was proud of me for surviving the week. But really – he and Deborah – they LIVE this all the time, so I am just really humbled to have shared life with them for the week. They are a huge part of why this “total immersion” turtling experience was what it was. They opened up their home, their hearts, and their lives – the good, the bad, and the ugly – to me, an almost total stranger, talking candidly with me about their experience living in such a troubled area, growing up in the projects, surviving Katrina and so much more, and for all of that, I am really grateful. I am sure that having come down with other people, or known more going into it, or done a little more play/less work, would have made all of this a little less challenging, but I think the level of challenge and learning was right in sync with what I needed and was ready for.

When I decided to use the turtle analogy with the blog title to help orient myself and my faithful readers to my experience, I mostly used it because I thought it had potential to be the right metaphor and because I like sailing and though it was clever. I think it turned out to be just the right sort of analogy. I definitely found myself entirely immersed into the culture, life, joys, and struggles of the community where I lived and worked for the week. And, it happened in such a way that I was very much out of my element, often disoriented, and constantly seeking ways to make peace with what I experienced. When you turtle a sailboat, the key part is to swim around the boat quickly, locate the daggerboard, which goes through the bottom of the boat, and grab it. Once you grab the daggerboard, you pull down on it with all of your weight then wait a few moments until your weight counter-balances the weight of the boat, flipping it upright again. In another this-would-only-come-from-Kristen’s-brain kind of connection, I have related a little bit this week to one of everyone’s favorite YouTube videos – David After the Dentist. (If you haven’t seen it, minimize the blog and watch it quick.) Mostly, he is really disoriented and doesn’t exactly know what’s going on. The part with which I most identify is the part where he throws his hands up in the air and asks “is it gonna be like this forever?” And sometimes, that’s where I am at right now. Am I always going to see the world the way that I saw it in New Orleans, or was that due to a heightened sense of engagement due to the circumstances of the experience? Am I always going to feel like there are hot coals under my feet and get squeamish if I am in one place for too long? And maybe – will I be honored enough to continue to be blessed by God in a way that allows me to travel hundreds or thousands of miles from home, meet incredible people, share life with them, and be changed by what we do together?


So many questions, and so few answers, but an overwhelming sense of peace as I leave the city that I continue to be so captivated by and head home for the next round of great adventures. While I am still not entirely sure what to DO with all that I have learned, considered, experienced, seen, and done this week, I can definitely say that I have found my daggerboard and gotten the boat upright again. Thank you again for taking the time to read my blog and to share in my turtling experience as you have considered and been challenged by some things this week; and again for all of your prayers and your support – it was really by the grace of God through people in my life that I was able to experience and survive this week of “doin’ good in the ‘hood.”

"Everybody Here White"

So minus the fact that I lost my phone this afternoon and am sort of freaking out about it, okay maybe a lot freaking out about it, today actually wasn't too overwhelming or exciting, which is probably good because yesterday so so intense and again, the phone. But, here we go...

[If you didn't read Wednesday's blog, please do. I had to write it on Word last night and post it this afternoon because the day was sooo packed that there was no cafe time in the schedule. We didn't even eat dinner until past my bedtime.]

I headed over to the camp this morning, sort of hoping for an easier day. When I got there, the kids had just finished breakfast so we did some academic stuff for a little while - ohh letter flashcards, then some coloring before going outside for a bit. A lot of the same observations - the kids really struggle with effective ways of getting what they want. There are a few in particular who just start this whining cry sort of thing when they don't get what they want and there was quite a bit of that going on today. We went back in and read a few books before an early lunch. It was during this time that I got today's title. Out of nowhere, one of the kids looks at me and goes "everybody here white." Now, some of them are not the best at anunciating their words and it was so out of nowhere, and made so little sense that I looked at her and said "what?" To which she repeated "everybody here white." Now, if you have not yet gathered-everybody there definitely isn't white. The only white people around during the day are myself, a woman here for a few weeks also connected through Ithaca and LKNB, and another young woman my age who is here for the year, but from Ithaca. Other than that, the 98% white statistic still rings true. Mostly, it was just a sort of entertaining and random saying from a kid who hadn't really put much thought into what she was saying. But, as I have been reflecting on race issues some this week, I read into it a little more than that. Last night when we were talking, Bruce and I talked about the white/black blend in the area, or lackthereof. It was interesting because he said he was really grateful for anyone who could be a good influence in the kids lives, and that it was good for the kids to learn early on that not all white people are out to get them. So, even though she really wasn't thinking when she said it, it was just another reminder of the odd circumstance of my whiteness in this very dark-skinned community and continued turning my brain over with thoughts about how much and why that even matters. But really - tell me if Jesus sees black and white when he sees things like this...





After lunch - Pool time! Now, you haven't truly lived unless you have jumped in a very full inner city pool. Haha. Kids EVERYWHERE. We have a lot of little kids and a lot that can't swim, so we took tons of little kid inflatable rings and swimmies (remember those!?) and hoped for the best. One of the kids, who is supercute and has a real good nature to him, played with me for most of the time. I let him jump off me, swung him around, and pretty much burnt off the amount of calories in the huge cookie I am eating at the cafe right now. Again, if it were just me, despite the million degree heat, I probably wouldn't have found the city pool to be the height of excitement for an activity, but a lot of the kids don't get out a lot, and they had fun. Also, with my ridiculous amount of time having been spent in the pool growing up, I think swimming is a really necessary skill for kids to have, and every tool that we can give these kids is just one more rung in the ladder that will get them up into a good life. I hope so at least, and I guess if I didn't believe that, I wouldn't be here in the first place. When swimming was over, we went back to the camp and (while I was searching semi-frantically for my long-lost phone) the kids got dressed then headed home. That was pretty much the day in a nutshell.

Thoughts on the day...not a ton like yesterday..but a few.

First - What I really want to do is go to Panera bread and have Paul make me a coffee that isn't gross. I am not really that picky when it comes to coffee - all I want is a drink that tastes more like chocolate than coffee. But here, every drink I have gotten is gross.

Next - While sitting in the million degree heat today waiting to leave after losing my phone, I realized how grateful I am for the people who have been my support system while I have been here. I was thinking some about it last night too and realized that if I tried to name everyone, I wouldn't be able to, especially because all of this has been a long-time coming and a lot of people have helped me get to a place where I was ready - tangibly and personally - to really take in all of this, experience it, be challenged by it, and learn from it. I just know that I have been really blessed by having a family that supports my antics traveling everywhere whenever I suddenly up and decide God wants me to go, and a school program with staff and an internship supervisor who have really gone the extra mile setting up this internship for me and agreeing to let me go 1300 miles from home, to the middle of a big, troubled city, to live and work with people I hardly know. I know that I have changed and learned more than I even will realize for a long time, and am really humbled by it and grateful for it.

Lastly, for now - the big frustration that I am dealing with now is two-fold but related. First, I don't know what to DO with all of this. I mean, it is good for others to read, appreciate, and learn from my musings on the blog, but I have been totally changed, and am seeing the world in a way very different from how I have seen it before. I have learned a lot of really important lessons, and started asking some really difficult and complex questions. All of this is good, but now what? I think we all learn these things about people and God and life when the timing and situation is right, but then what? I don't know and it is annoying.

Second, as I am already thinking about leaving tomorrow, I HATE the ending of experiences like this, and am sure that the let-down at the end of this one will be far more severe than many others. I remember when I came back to school from Katrina Relief round #1 in Mississippi and just feeling really empty. I remember thinking to myself "last week I did work that helped 10 people get back into their homes, and this week I am sitting in class learning history dates I will never remember. Why am I even here right now?" It was really difficult for a few weeks go from a place of feeling like "Yea! I am using my life well" to the mundane schedule of classes again. And now, I am going home after having learned and experienced so much, and even though I have been overwhelmed, it has been really good. Although, in a very cliche way, I am sure I have gained more from this trip than I have given, I think I have done some good work here, and I am going to miss really effective love time with people when I get home. I guess, if nothing else, (and I can't believe I am saying this) it is going to be really good motivation for me to really put an honest effort into my schoolwork, including reading the articles and textbook assignments well, doing a little extra research, and allowing myself to be engaged as I integrate my street-smarts and my book-smarts to make this social work thing work out. I am sure the flight home tomorrow will bring some more thoughts..and maybe a plan to figure out how/when to work out the "Turtled in Haiti" experience...



For now... It is only a little after 5:00pm, NOLA time, and because we are often on the non-plan plan here, God only knows what is in store for later...

Fieldtrips, and Ferry Rides, and HIV tests, Oh My!

Before getting to today’s (Wednesday's)entry, after I finished yesterday, I walked “home” from the café, and noticed the scene below. For those of you who haven’t seen your share of post-Katrina NOLA pictures, after the storm, rescue workers had to go through the city and surrounding areas searching for people – both living and dead. They would spraypaint a T on the house with a set of numbers in each part of the T. One was the date the home was visited; another was the rescue department that had done the search; another was the number of people or bodies found; and the last was for pets. Even in homes that have been entirely re-built on the inside, the spraypainted T can still be seen on the front of the house. They are a constant reminder to residents of the frightening, painful, and traumatic experience of Katrina; a reminder of all that they lost. This picture, for example is one of the houses I see on my walk to the cafe:



The picture below,however, is the very essence of why this city has captivated me for years. If a picture is worth a thousand words, I think this one could write a book.




To say that today was overwhelming would be an understatement. It was by far the most busy, challenging, overwhelming, stressful, thought-provoking day yet. Again, not at all a complaint, because it was not beyond what I was ready for or could handle, but dang, I am tired. So, as usual, the run-down on the day’s many activities and then some thoughts…

I started out the day again at the summer camp program. We did just a little bit of academic work this morning before heading downtown to..THE PUBLIC LIBRARY! Anyone who knows me well knows my fondness for public libraries – books for FREE! (okay, taxes and the fines I accumulate make it less than free, but still, it’s a nice idea in theory) We went for an hour-long presentation by a reptile guy from the Audobon Zoo (which I visited in January) and he showed snails, lizards, a snapping turtle, and an alligator. The kids were actually really well behaved and sat pretty well even though the guy did a lot of talking. It was nice because you never know how much these kids get out to see the world beyond their front door, and I like out-of-the-ordinary treats that tell the kids that they are loved and that someone wants them to have some joy in their lives.



The library was followed by a ride on the ferry across the big Mississippi River. Honestly, not terribly exciting as an outing, but it was cool to go across the river and, again, good to do something extra with the kids that they might not normally get to do. After that we drove around for a long time in very crowded, hot vehicles for lunch. The plan was to go to Taco Bell, (Bean burritos!) but one was closed for remodeling, then the next one too, so we just went to Wendys. (Renee – had a frosty with chocolate chip cookie dough..like college all over again..minus a pot and cheese grater.) After a long time at Wendys – feeding 25+kids and a pile of adults takes a long time – we headed back to the program house for the kids to get picked up. No swimming because of the spur of the moment field trip on the ferry and crazy time getting lunch, but all in all, not a bad way to spend the day with some pretty great kids.



After the kids left, I headed next door to the HIV/AIDS outreach program building. I sat with Pastor Bruce for a bit learning all about the HIV tests that they do, the statistics for HIV/AIDS in the community, and more. The program offers free HIV testing, information, and all the condoms a person could ever really need – with more varieties than I ever knew existed. So, while we were talking, a guy came in to get condoms and asked for an HIV test. He agreed to let me sit in, understanding that I was learning about the program. Then, while we were waiting for that guy’s results to come back (The test takes about 20 minutes), another one came in. We finished with the first guy and then I sat in for another. When they both had left, Pastor Bruce and I talked some more about different outreach programs they do and trends that he is seeing with HIV/AIDS in the community. When we were done with that, I got picked up and drove around town for some errands with Deborah on our way to the evening’s “Hour of Power” church time.

Now, all week Deborah has shared with me the stories of many people in the church and camp programs – struggles their families face both related to Katrina and otherwise. But today, driving to church, she shared her own story with me. Pointing ahead of us while driving, she said “see 610 (the interstate) up there? That’s where we were.” Then, for the next half hour or so, I just sat while she shared with me all about having to decide to leave her home; about being saved by her neighbor who had a boat and took her to the bridge; about going for hours without food or water; and about the inner sadness and pain she dealt with as she rode off the bridge to safety on a bus, while watching many others left behind. Because her story was unsolicited, I felt really honored that she felt safe and wanted to share it with me. We were heading to church, so she stopped when she was ready but we talked more on the way back to the house and while she cooked dinner later this evening. We talked about how it has been for her getting back to New Orleans and still living in a half-finished home; and about struggles she faced in the months after the storm and how she shared similar, but more pronounced, fears when we drove through the flooded streets on Sunday. When Bruce got home, we had dinner together (Red Beans and Rice!) and talked more about the HIV/AIDS issues and a little more before bedtime.

So, it was quite a day. A full day, a blessed day, a tough day, and a growing day for sure. Thoughts, again in no particular order...

The two biggest things for me today were the HIV experience and hearing Deborah’s story.

I had known HIV/AIDS outreach was part of the church’s ministry and had known when I got here that I might be doing some work with them this week. However, there is a huge difference between passing out some condoms or literature, and sitting in a room with a person who is waiting to find out if he is HIV positive. HUGE difference. This is made especially true by the fact that, as I learned from Bruce, many of the cases they see in the program are people who already have the disease at the AIDS stage because they just don’t understand HIV, don’t think it could happen to them, or aren’t ready to face the music. So, the likelihood that I could have witnessed someone getting that news today was huge. And there are no time-outs, no do-overs, no script. It just is what it is – positive or negative and that’s that. It’s weird because so often in our lives, especially my own, we are able to plan for things. We know when something challenging might arise, or how we anticipate something might turn out, and we prepare ourselves for it. But this was different, partly because it is all such a major thing, and partly because there was no plan or script – you read the test when the client did, no advance notice or heads-up. The great thing about the program here is that, if a person does test positive, there are supports in place to help him/her get medication, doctor referrals, counseling, and whatever supplies they need to prevent transmitting the disease to others. Additionally, a positive HIV test isn’t a death sentence, especially if someone finds out early and has access to medical support and care, so part of working with people is to help them understand that life can go on after those test results. I don’t know that HIV/AIDS testing or counseling work is in my future, but it was a good experience to put myself in a vulnerable place with a client, to understand the suspense and anxiety that is a part of that process.

Now, Deborah’s story. I don’t really even know where to start with this one – what details to share, what odd analogies I can come up with to communicate how it felt to hear it, but we’ll give it a try. A lot of the factual information about it was not terribly surprising to me because of things I already knew about Katrina and how things were handled for people after the storm. But again, it is always different when you know someone who was separated from her family, stranded on that bridge, and was not given any food for hours and hours. As she told me about her experience, priority number one was just to be present, really present, especially considering that it was information I hadn’t asked for, but that she was offering on her own. I think just being an ear to listen, to a person who usually is taking in so much trouble from others who need her, was helpful for her. It just is odd because hearing her story about Katrina seemed somehow different than other stories I have heard from people about difficult experiences in their own lives. Perhaps this is just because it is the first story that has really been shared with me since I have been seeing the world a little differently, but I don’t know. What I do know is that after we talked, and finished the conversation at dinner, I felt an odd sense that I needed to hold onto her story very carefully. Now, work with me here because I know it sounds odd – for starters, there isn’t anything tangible to hold onto. And, there is a difference between carefully holding onto the story of another person and holding onto it in a way that weighs you down. In this case, it is definitely the former, as though some piece of her human experience has been entrusted to me and I have this overwhelming need to be gentle with it. This is part of the reason I have not really included it here; it isn’t my piece of history to give to someone else, and I almost think people would be better off gathering stories on their own rather than just taking in mine. If, however, you are interested in some Katrina stories “When the Levees Broke,” a documentary by Spike Lee is a film that will be a great place to start.

I am exhausted, and tomorrow promises to be another (insert adjective I have probably used too much in this blog here) day, so I think that is all for now. Again, both of the two major things on which I have chosen to comment for today are quite heavy things that still need some process and peacemaking time, so there may be further thoughts on them in the next few updates…we’ll see. As always, thank you for your continued diligence to reading my very long blogs, for your support, and prayers.

Birthdays, Boogers, and Beavers

Here I am again in this well-decorated, but less-than-panera-quality coffee shop to share with you today's adventures, lessons, and "musings." Today,as other New Orleans days have been, was a quality, fun, entertaining, and confusing adventure..if you didn't figure by the title.

First, a view from the upstairs front porch where I got to spend lots of reading, relaxing, and reflecting time last night...



Before I get into that, however, I have a few multi-media recommendations to make that I think will really enhance your understanding of what I am experiencing, feeling, and working through while I am here, and I want to put them in at the top because today's post is going to be mad long and probably make you uncomfortable (but hey - if I am riled up by all of this, why shouldn't you join me?) So, here they are.
1 - A song: "Give Me Your Eyes" by Brandon Heath. People, be careful what you might be wishing/praying for when you sing too loudly along with those Jesus songs in your car. Now, even if you are not a Jesus-loving person, I still recommend you YouTube this song, listen to the words and think about it. It is about a man asking God to have God's eyes for just one second in order to see the people of the world the way that God does - to see the need and pain that people live with, but also to have a heart so full of love that something bigger is able to overwhelm and overcome all that need and pain. Though I wouldn't ever go so far as to say I see the world the way God does, I think the words "give me your eyes so I can see everything that I've been missing" are really ringing true for me this week. In looking at some of the kids in the program where I am working, in a split second I can see so much of what they have grown up with, who they are, and the possibilities for all that they might become. It's really difficult to describe, and sometimes difficult to see when they are driving me a little nuts, but it is definitely a new way to see people. And, in reading "Savage Inequalities" (A book on race&class-based segregation and disparities in America's urban schools), I have seen how much of the world has written of kids like this, assuming that after they are behind a few reading levels in 3rd grade, they won't ever amount to anything. And yet, with kids who still don't know their alphabet by that age, I can still see them for what God might have created them to be, instead of what they cannot be. Again, difficult to explain, and still blowing my mind, but gosh, they are beautiful children. So, even if you aren't hoping to see the world this way, or don't have opportunity for it, find "Give Me Your Eyes" on YouTube and it might help bridge the gap between my experience and yours.

2- A Book: "Old Turtle and the Broken Truth" by Douglas Wood. First, a shoutout to Cheryl Galan and people I love at Camp Whitman who have introduced me to this book and helped me to see the beauty and truth that we can learn from children's books. Second, if you missed that - IT's A PICTURE BOOK, which means there's no reason not to read it. But, in short, it is a story about the love that abounds for all people, no matter who they are, where they came from, what they have or what they look like, or anything else. The most priceless, tear-jerking line in the whole book happens when a young girl returns from a long journey to see Old Turtle, and it says this: "But it had been a very long journey, and those who take great journeys of the heart are changed." And, especially within the context of the story, that's how I feel - changed, already. While this is one big piece of the puzzle and the change that I have noticed since beginning the MSW journey last year, I know that what I am learning and struggling with here are not lessons soon to be forgotten. I was talking with Ericka [thanks again for the pillow ;-)] last night and told her that, as overwhelming as this has sometimes been, I know that God is teaching me through it, and that He is changing me, and I am grateful for that.

Those are the recommendations for now..only 2, so I hope if you aren't familiar with either the song or the book, you will take some time to seek them out in the next few days. And now, on to the day's excitement! woo!

So, as the title implies - another adventure-filled day! I spent most of the day with the 4&5 year old class again. We had a much more effective academic time this morning, working on some letters and short words with the kids. It is sad to see already that some of the kids have such a hard time identifying letters and sounds, and even understanding the concept of what a letter is. But, it is early in their education still, and if you didn't gather from the info above, I am hopeful that there is still time for them to figure things out. After academic fun, we went outside, had a little chalk drawing fun, followed by my valiant, but pretty ineffective attempts to teach the kids how to throw a frisbee. Haha..where is Bill Furnas when I need him? But, it was a good time, and it is just good for them to get some fun and exercise in. After that was lunchtime, also smoother than yesterday. I was able to keep the kids a little calmer working on some letter flashcards for a bit until lunch was ready then..QUIET TIME! woo! We sort of managed to get most of the kids to chill out for a few minutes after lunch and relax, which was good because, as if you couldn't figure: Louisiana in July is HOT! And, a lot of the kids have been passing around this mad-nasty cold/booger virus like it is candy, and a little rest should do them good. Next highlight of the day - a Birthday! One of the kids in my class turned 3 today, and he is pretty much the cutest thing EVER.

I wanted you to see the picture first to be excited about it, but here is the sort of sad thing. When I asked the teacher, beacause he is a big kid, if he was really just 3, she said "yep, he made 3." He MADE it to age three. Tell me the last time you were surrounded by a group of kids where there was a question about whether or not they would make it to age three? Where their safety and state of being was so much in question that they may not make it to 3? Might be a bit of a culture thing, but based on some reading about other cities, this idea of "making it" to the next age, even when you're a child, is pretty common, especially in high-poverty, high-crime areas, and in a city like New Orleans where problems like gang violence and HIV/AIDS run rampant. Sad, but again - let's own and work on it instead of pretending it isn't happening...

So, we all had cake and ice cream to celebrate. Then, lots of people piled into a very hot van on a very hot day and went back to City Park to feed the ducks and play on the playgound. This is where the "beaver" part comes in. While feeding the ducks this VERY strange looking, giant-rat sort of thing swam over and was all up on the kids' bread. We stared at it for a few minutes, the kids insisting it was a beaver, even though it didn't have a beaver tale. Another guy over near the ducks told us it was called a "neutra." All I have to say is that I think my pet cat is just fine and the neutra can just stay in Louisiana. Fun to look at but sort of not a warm-fuzzy woodland creature.


After that, we piled back into the van, and sent home a lot of tired and sweaty little kids :). When the kids had left, I got to spend some time talking with Pastor Bruce about the HIV/AIDS outreach programs that he and a few others coordinate in the community. I think I am going to do outreach with them tomorrow, so I will save that info for the next post.

Now, the part you've all been waiting for--reflections!

In the "recommendations" part, I already included a lot of what has been on my mind, but here's the last set of thoughts for today. Please let yourself read it and be made uncomfortable by it, to see these thoughts and observations for what they are, and give yourself room to ask some difficult questions..

Today's topic: Race.

Now, the thing I haven't talked about at all yet, but has definitely been part of the experience is that my white self is spending a week living and working in an area of New Orleans that, at least before Katrina and probably still, was 98% black. And the odd thing about race is that it is so assumed that we must be politically correct in talking about it, that we sort of don't talk about it at all, and really, that doesn't help anyone. So, because it's my blog and I do what I want, I'm going to talk about it. There are a lot of ideas people hold when it comes to race, and none of them are things I am currently able to be at peace with. First, we like to feel good and pretend that "race doesn't matter," that we don't make judgements, assumptions, or decisions about people based on what color they are, and pretending that the color of our skin has no bearing on our character, our culture, or our experiences. Now, let's be honest, probably all of us assume and judge people sometimes based on "appearance" factors - whether it is skin color, size, age, ability, clothing, or whatever else. It isn't right, and often the assumptions we make are incorrect, but we do it. Social construction, if you will. So, though I am definitely realizing how much I do that and working towards doing it less here, it happens, so let's own it so that we can change it instead of ignore it. Doesn't that feel good? So this idea then would lead us to trying to understand the idea that you can't judge a book by it's cover and that, at our core, we are really all just people - equal in status and importance, who laugh at the same jokes, cry the same tears, etc. And that sounds nice too right? Wrong. The problem with this sort of approach is that it forgets cultural differences about each other that should be appreciated and celebrated. I mean, if we were all supposed to live, act, sing, worship, and enjoy life the same way, we wouldn't be different. Now, skin color is not the only thing that carries weight in who we are, and perhaps doesn't carry very much weight at all, but it's a part of it. So, then, if we don't want to jump to negative conclusions about people based on race, but we also don't want to patronize or neglect culture with cliche, lame sayings like "oh, we're all just people" then where is the balance that appreciates difference without making assumptions, judgments or decisions based on those differences? And, how can we live in a world of "differences" without them becoming "inequalities"? I think we can..but I don't know how...

That is mostly it for today. Tomorrow will be day 3 at the camp - SWIMMING DAY! in the afternoon, and then I should be doing some HIV outreach with that program. Thanks for sticking with me on this journey of difficult questions, rambling reflections, and very long blogs.