The hand of the LORD was upon me, and He brought me out by the Spirit of the LORD and set me down in the middle of the valley; and it was full of bones. He caused me to pass among them round about, and behold, there were very many on the surface of the valley; and lo, they were very dry. He said to me, "Son of man, can these bones live?"
And I answered, "O Lord GOD, You know." Again He said to me, "Prophesy over these bones and say to them, 'O dry bones, hear the word of the LORD.'
"Thus says the Lord GOD to these bones, 'Behold, I will cause breath to enter you that you may come to life. I will put sinews on you, make flesh grow back on you, cover you with skin and put breath in you that you may come alive; and you will know that I am the LORD.'"
Words from the Ezekiel 37 passage were painted on a sign in front of a damaged, empty church in New Orleans’ Lower 9th Ward. All around that area, concrete steps lead to nowhere – emptiness left years ago as storm surge waters breached the levee and washed homes from there foundations. Rebuilding efforts have not reached this part of Katrina’s playground, probably due to the lack of resources – and therefore lack of voice – of this area’s residents.
And yet, hope remains. From the prophetic words of Ezekiel to the community gathering point – a damaged home whose yard has been converted to a free resource center, with piles of clothes and other goods – one can see life remaining in the dry bones.
At the end of May, I joined a group from First and Calvary Presbyterian Church’s college ministry in a journey to my home state – the first time I’d returned since Katrina hit three years ago.
My first impression was that things were okay. “Maybe it isn’t as bad as I thought, maybe they really have come a long way…” But first impressions are deceitful. As I took time to look around me, I realized that for every house that has been rebuilt, three more stand untouched.
The Search and Rescue “X” remains painted on house after house, reminding those who pass of the search for the living – and, shortly thereafter, for the dead. Each quadrant of the X tells something about the search. In the top quadrant, rescuers painted the date of the search; the left quadrant has numbers or letters representing the search group; the right quadrant gives misc. information (gas out, interior searched, etc.). The lower quadrant is perhaps the most disturbing. In that quadrant is painted the number of the dead. While most houses feature a crossed through zero, the few houses where another number takes its place are devastating. All serve as a reminder that this is a city drenched in pain.
Our group was there to replace the “sinews.” We worked with Presbyterian Disaster Assistance (PDA – how fun is that?) and their partner construction crews to work in two teams, each at a different house. My team was in Chalmette, working on the house of a lady named Beth – whom we never met. The house had been completely gutted due to the flood waters that remained stagnant for weeks. During our three days at the house, we put up insulation and began hanging sheetrock.
Two other workdays were spent partnering with different organizations — Habitat for Humanity and a Lutheran relief group – due to the weekend and holiday (when the PDA partner crews are off). At Habitat, we wrapped and caulked the house with the water-proofing sheet (all technical names, of course) and began working on the framing and drywall hangers inside. Gotta love tools like the circular saw and the nail gun!
On memorial day, we experienced what the Lutherans referred to as the “Monday Morning Blowup.” We arrived at our house to find the door locked and no supplies for our priming job. While waiting to track down the homeowner, a group returned to the Lutheran headquarters to pick up a mower and weed eater. Ben and I decided to wreak havoc on the vines that were overtaking the trees and shrubs in the backyard. In some places, you couldn’t even see the branches of the trees due to the web of vines that had grown over them.
By early afternoon, our painting supplies finally made it, and we were able to prime all the walls.
On Tuesday night, a woman named Carolyn came to visit our group at the PDA Olive Tree site (where we stayed). Carolyn grew up at First and Calvary, but had lived in New Orleans since 1975. Carolyn is a social worker who works in an alternative school. She shared about the lack of mental health resources since the storm. Many of the mental health experts relocated, leaving a all those who are experiencing post traumatic stress disorder and what is commonly refered to as “Katrina Brain” to fend for themselves. Money can help secure resources, but even that isn’t a sure bet.
She mentioned that she – and all of her coworkers – are on antidepressants. She is a classic case of Katrina Brain, experiencing problems with her memory. After the storm, people found they had to make lists for things they would normally remember – and those lists had to be detailed.
Since most people don’t have access to mental health help, many are turning to self-medication with alcohol and marijuana. Carolyn laughed at the unintentional wine cellar she has developed. She buys a bottle each week at the store, then realizes she can’t drink it – because she’d also be using it as a medication.
New Orleans is essentially a war zone. The infrastructure of the city is gone. Military police have stepped in to fill roles left by cops that didn’t return. Giant office buildings – that look like they were brand new before Katrina -- stand gutted and empty. Fast food chains remain closed up, with graffiti taking the place of advertisements.
During one late-night walk, we stumbled across a swimming pool that had been filled with dirt during the storm and now had grass growing. Lot after lot had overgrown yards that were beginning to resemble a forest.
Many homes have trailers in front where the family is actually living, while their homes remain gutted behind them.
Demolition notices hang on houses, issuing a 10-day warning before the house will be demolished. Those signs were posted in 2006 and still the house stands.
I’ve returned home feeling more than overwhelmed. There is so much work left to be done, and yet tragedies and natural disasters haven’t stopped. The report yesterday was that 1 million people still lack basic needs in Burma.
Yet, I still have hope. The dry bones of the coast are beginning to breathe again, but they are counting on you to be their arms and legs.
Comments (5)
This is a great essay/report. It's important for us to not forget about it, and keep working on New Orleans!
@yardenxanthe - thanks, friend! And thanks for reading my insanely long ramble!
I went on the same trip and still I learned something from your review. Thanks.
wow-way to be the hands and feet of Jesus. I know what you mean about feeling overwhelmed with all there is to do.
I agree. Why does everyone have to use "Xs"?