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.