in an urban ghost town...hope rises

?, Dante, and Ashley...on the playground next to the projects downtown.
Striking to me was this sign in the Gentilly neighborhood (Gentilly and the infamous 9th ward were hit the hardest) struck me in its irony as broken-down houses and rubble lay in the background.

I made Josh and Billy where masks when we were working on insulation and dry-walling our first day at another house in Gentilly. They had water up to 9 feet in their home and there is only one person moved back on their entire block almost 3 years later. 
Me at recess with some of the precious first-graders at the Fisher School on the Westbank across from downtown. Only 30% of the schools in New Orleans have been reopened, and the Fisher school is notorious for its proximity to the projects and the length that it has been open. Some of the kids currently attending saw not only their parents, but also their grandparents attend the school!

An excerpt from a journal entry...just some thoughts in the midst of the journey and an attempt to assimilate and make sense of what I was seeing and experiencing: Thursday, March 27, 2008 Westbank of New O'

I've never seen such a shanty town in the middle of a major city. The devastation is so tangible and runs deep into the hearts of an unrelenting people; wide to cover the face of the land for miles. I find in the midst of abandoned homes and ghost-like neighborhoods, whispers of hope and the obscure fragrance of life. I am absolutely confounded by the utter desolation, but in its midst, the seeds of new life. If anything would humble our powerful and rich country, this must...yet it seems that it has not. Our nation continues onward, leaving New Orleans in the wake of our arrogant striving to be teachers of truth. On the side of a building yesterday we saw this quote tagged: Wealth in the midst of poverty is an affront to our dignity. A few minutes later we arrived at the projects to play with children whose eyes seem to be childlike but heavy--deep wells of uncertainty. But with them I see hope...they are seeds that may bring life if they are not dried up in this city whose stormy aftermath has left a drought. How we can have left such devastation for so long...is a heartbreaking mystery to my heart: to my eyes that have now seen and to my ears that have now heard. At times it is as a stench rising from the decay of a lifeless void. Injustice swelters as a festering wound upon the scar of what has long been our shame. I cannot help but think that if these miles of New Orleans city blocks were filled with rich White people, that a cry would have risen up long ago and found advocates for restoration and unequivocal crusaders who would not have stood for silence of action. I walk the streets as if living in a third world country of no resource or power. The sights I glean speak of either an inability or a complete disregard for any need for purification or life. It is not merely that new homes are absent, but what is rather striking is that house after dilapidated house appear as tombs of death where a breath blown could shake their foundations to dust. Everything seems not merely fragile, but empty of spirit and desolate of love. This city is our humiliation. My only recompense is this: my first and fundamental identity is the Church and my nationality only subsequent to my membership in Christ Jesus. Any pride from the embarrassment of this city's desolation can only be found in this: The Church (and indeed God Himself) has not left, but rather it is Your people, Lord Jesus, that have kept coming--your Church that has risen to intercede for a land and breathe breath into this valley of dry bones. here your people are light and they are salty to the taste of people whose life has not merely lost flavor, but whose bodies are starved of hope and weary in perseverance. So I hear Paul's words to the people in Corinth and am reminded that nothing given to the poor and no great feat of self-sacrifice means anything without love. And love, whose Author is You, always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres. And it is love that must continually compel your Bride to run to the ghettos of our land and be what it is the the midst of darkness: Light! So I consider Rose & Wanda, Shirley, and the kids like Ashley, Dante, and Jaelyn yesterday and my prayer is simple...that Light would be seen in your Bride--not merely good works, bur rather a labor of love compelled by the beautiful Gospel of reconciliation. I pray that you would be seen Lord Jesus! You are just and you hear the groaning of the oppressed. Let the words of your people rise as a fragrant offering and plea for you to heal this land. And may our prayers not merely be the fruit of our lips, but also the conviction of our minds and the work of our hands. Again your Word reminds me, instructs me, in the beautiful truth that while you have conquered sin and death, it is yet to be destroyed. And Lord we cry out--Come Lord Jesus--Marana tha! Destroy sin and death now that it has been defeated. May we tarry in hope and eager expectation for the redemption of our bodies!