Those who stayed.

This past week, spontaneously, on a few occasions people at work shared their Katrina stories with me. Where they were, where they went, what they did, what was lost, when they returned, what they found, learned and what they discovered about themselves and about life. It is a privilege to hear such stories.

I am especially impressed with the people who stayed because of work obligations or with the intentions of helping others. There were two people whose stories of staying to help others that touched me very deeply. These stories made me think of the gospel stories of the women who stayed during the crucifixion. While reflecting upon these stories, I wrote the following:
First hand, I hear their stories,
those who stayed,
who helped while feeling utterly helpless,
who watched and prayed,
who felt the pain as death surrounded them
and utter darkness came.
Whose hearts tightly clenched a tiny crumb of hope,
when all else had been devoured, destroyed.
Wading, neck deep in rising pain, while the debris of fallen structures floated and sank
in the pits of empty stomaches.
They stayed the unpaved course that had no maps, no signs nor signal lights.
They stayed through the crucifixion,
and returned in early dawn to the empty tomb,
awaiting, anticipating, participating in resserection.

Last night, I had the opportunity to do outreach with a few coworkers, including a man who does outreach to the homeless for the police department. We were able to get several men into shelter who may have faced arrest later that night had they stayed near a particular building in the city which has increased security. The men all had different stories. Some had come here from other parts of the country seeking work, and are doing construction during the day. All were pleasant, cooperative and grateful. I am finding that I really enjoy doing outreach to the homeless. The people I have met on the streets of New Orleans all have been interesting people, with stories, gifts, talents, hopes and dreams.

On days when work is hard (which has very little to do with the people we serve and a lot to do with frustrating bureaucracies and a lack of resources), I am so grateful that I really enjoy the sisters that I am staying with. The emails, letters and phone calls, and prayers from everyone at home are also wonderful gifts. I feel so supported and am very appreciative. The other day I was thinking about the fact that I have at least three places now, that I commonly refer to as home, all of which are much more than adequately inhabitable, which I take for granted less and less as I encounter more and more people without even one halfway inhabitable place to call home.