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Mission
Trip
New Orleans, July 2007
During my week in New Orleans, I really
felt God speak to me a lot. One of the things he kept emphasizing to me was
the significance of life. Not just my life or the lives of people I know
personally, but the lives of every single person he created. God must’ve
really wanted to make a point, because he couldn’t even wait until we arrived
at our destination to start showing me just how important life is. During
our first day of traveling, we encountered some traffic slow down due to
an accident. It must’ve been extremely recent, because the scene lacked a
number of emergency vehicles, and things were still a huge mess. The first
thing I saw was a woman sobbing. She was being hugged by another lady who
seemed to be doing her best to console her. Next, I noticed the car, which
was completely smashed up. There was glass everywhere on the passenger’s
side. My stomach turned when I saw the paramedics next to the body of a man
whose white shirt was almost entirely stained red. I didn’t see his face,
but he was sprawled out, apparently having been pulled out from the car,
lying motionless. My heart sank, and I felt as if I knew that guy. I wanted
to jump out of the car and go hug him, and go be there with the lady who
may have been physically unharmed, but emotionally, was incredibly wounded.
I began thinking about how priceless and precious life is, and how capable
it is of ending at any given and unsuspected time. I mean, people say that
all the time, but I guess it has to sink in for each individual person.
After we passed the accident, someone in the car said something like,
“Man. I’m so glad that wasn’t anyone from our group.” It sort of struck
me as a rude thing to say, but then I realized that I had said that countless
times in my life before, and that it seemed not to matter if someone’s
life was jeopardized, as long as it wasn’t someone that I knew personally.
I came to the realization that all people are part of this bigger picture,
and that my heart should be going out to everyone, not just the ones that
have a conscious impact on me, because, like in this particular situation,
even though I didn’t know that person, who may or may not be alive, they
played a small role in life as a whole, and therefore, a role in my life.
They’re part of my past, present, and future. Sounds dramatic and all, but
that’s the lesson God taught me that day.
On a less depressing note, when we got to New Orleans, God still had
more to teach me. My first work site was at a house that we called “The
Lady Grey.” We got to put on full body mucking suits, respirators, 3 layers
of gloves, goggles, and rubber work boots and wear them all in the 90 degree
weather… definitely my idea of fun. Only sweating gallons of water could
have topped that experience. Oh wait. We got to do that too. Well, during
our work days there, along with knocking down the walls and ceilings, we
got to go through all the contents of the upstairs to try and salvage what
we could, and toss the rest. Peggy got the lovely job of cleaning the kitchen,
and I’m so thankful I wasn’t there when she, along with some of the kids
there, opened the refrigerator. It was filled with food from 2 years ago,
when the family that had lived there was forced to evacuate. Talk about
toxic waste.
While we were going through all the contents of the various rooms,
it felt like we were getting to know the home owners. All the memorabilia
and pictures, along with the personal items they had owned seemed to portray
a little bit about the people themselves. The older lady that lived there
was a wild party animal, and absolutely loved Marti Gras. That was definitely
evident when the group that was there the day the attic had to be cleaned
out, brought two garbage bags full of Marti Gras beads back to the relief
center with them that evening. In growing closer to these people I had never
met, I realized, yet again, the significance of all human life. There are
people living all around us that we may not personally know, but that play
a role in human life as a whole, just like we do, and we don’t have to have
ever met them for them to have an impact on us.
My most favorite memory from the mission trip, though, is when I went
sheet rocking with Mr. Moyer, Andrew, and Abby on the second work day. The
guy that owned the house we were working at, was a guy named Montrel. He
had just moved back into his house for the first time in two years a few days
before we had come to work. We took a break from what we were doing at one
point and listened to Montrel tell a little bit of his story. He ended up
thanking us at one point for all the work we were doing. He said “I’m blessed…
but I’m not just sayin’ I’m blessed to say I’m blessed. Sayin’ you’re blessed
don’ impress nobody.” I loved that. He was such a neat guy, and so genuinely
thankful for life and everything he had received from Jesus. After talking
for awhile, he invited us to eat our lunches inside, where we could get
out of the heat and into some air conditioning for a little bit. We declined,
telling him we didn’t want to get the house all dirty, seeing as we were
grody and sweaty from the day’s work. But he pointed to his newly installed
granite countertops and his brand new furniture and said “This stuff… it
don’t matter. It’s all material possessions, and if that’s what matters to
you, there’s something wrong with that. That’s one thing I learned from Katrina.”
That right there summed up all the other stuff God had been showing me about
how incredibly valuable people are, and how unimportant everything else is.
Material things don’t matter, and Montrel summed that up better than I could’ve
done myself. He really hit home with so many things while we were talking
to him.
I loved my experience in New Orleans, and wish I could’ve stayed longer.
The only way to gain is by giving, and I loved giving my time and talents
down there. There’s still so much more work to be done and lives that
need to be touched, but there’s also a huge amount of hope in that city.
I thank God for giving me this opportunity, and I look forward to what
he brings with the Mission Trip in 2008.
- Ellen Pavlacka
If you were part of the Mission Trip and have a
story you'd like to share,
please e-mail Bonny McCabe.
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