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.”
No comments:
Post a Comment