Day 303 - Mrs. Iola's Home

Sometimes we get to have a little fun. One of the times is a tear down. While a demolition can be dangerous, when it is done carefully, tearing out walls and wielding a sledge has a little satisfaction to it. Sometimes the story doesn't.

We got a call from a daughter who asked us if we could help them out in Vancleave. It seems the house her mother, Mrs. Iola, lived in had become too decrepit after Katrina for an elderly widow. The new tin roof never sealed right and they had found someone in North Mississippi who would sell them a modular home and install it if they could prepare the site. She asked could we tear down the old homestead for them?



I traveled out and found a sixty year old house, originally two or three rooms, with added several rooms and porches. There was gross signs of termite damage, a lot of leaks in the roof and, shall I say, a lot of airy rooms. Hardly the place for a woman in her eighties to be living.


I looked around, many of the brick pilings were severely weathered and missing bricks. I was amazed it was standing. Even so you could see the massive true 6x6 rough cut long timbers used for the sills, though the splices look iffy. (If you've read any Faulkner you may remember this part of Mississippi was originally virgin pine forest, massive trees. Even sixty years ago it was common to see these large timbers.)

So I told the daughter in mid-January when we had volunteers we'd be out to tear it down so she could purchase and install the modular home before the February deadline to purchase. We arranged for a dumpster to be on site and as soon as our new friends from Stillwater, MN and Wisconsin arrived, we formed a team and headed for the house. I ensured water, electricity and gas were disconnected, and we had plenty of hard hats.



The first thing we noticed on the rear of the house is that Mrs. Iola's son had partially dismantled the dining room. No problem, we just finished that work.

The best demolition method (in absence of a bulldozer) after ensuring all utilities are disconnected is to start with the roof and then the roof rafters, Pull the siding, save any valuable or useful doors, fixtures, and overlooked belongings and bring down the walls.



In this case we decided to go ahead and pull down the bathroom since it was an added structure.






By the second day we had most of the tin roof removed.









We started the week with lows in the 40's and highs in the fifties, pretty nice and with the sun a little outdoor picnic for lunch hit the spot! We had a fire out back where the son was burning lumber too ruined to save and by Wednesday when the temperatures were dropping, that too came in handy.



We found some surprises in the attic, Mrs. Iola was lucky neither she or her children were harmed by a fire started by badly spliced wiring! When you read about old homes catching fire, think about things like this.

We found one other remarkable thing in the attic, the bassinet used to bring Mrs. Iola's children home from birthing. One of our volunteers told us it was the identical bassinet her mother used to bring her home!




By Wednesday we had all the roof removed and all the siding, it was pretty clear we would be done on Thursday.



Before we brought down the walls, I had to go through the house with my camera. On the living room wall by the back door where the phone had laid I found the old message board and address book. There is a lot of history in the house, I can only imagine what dreadful thing happened on 9/11/72 in L'ville...




At this point on Wednesday all the siding is stripped and we really only have to knock down the rafters and pull down the walls.








Thursday only the concrete and brick piers, and piles of lumber were left which the son was using to build a shed out back to keep Mrs. Iola's belongings until the new home is set up.




Our crew leader, Mike, and others had the idea to take pieces of siding and rip it to make seven picture frames, replicate an old photograph of Mrs. Iola and her late husband and give a frame to each daughter or son and to Mrs. Iola. The picture for Mrs. Iola, standing next to Mike in front of the daughter's home rests on the railing.

So we have a happy ending - so I thought until last Monday. I was buying building supplies in Lowes for an Orange Grove client when I received a call from Mrs. Iola's daughter. She apologized profusely for missing us on our last day there and we talked a while. She told me that when they went up to buy the modular home, the man had already sold it even though he promised to hold it. It was a very good deal financially that they barely could make. They may not have enough money to buy another. The daughter told me she doesn't have the heart to tell Ms. Iola the modular home was lost; they already had worried much over Ms. Iola's anxiety about seeing the home he husband built and she had lived in for sixty years go down. She said they don't know what to do except they would keep on paying for help since that had gotten them this far.

Day 298 - One Small Step

Today I took one small step towards big change in my future. Actually it was a big step assisted by all my friends.

I am in Chattanooga. I traveled up from Gulfport yesterday so I could meet today with my session liaison, Jennifer Genovesi, and travel together to Harriman, Tennessee to met with the Committee on Care of Church Professionals (CPM). The purpose of the interview is an “examination” to evaluate my request for admission to the status of Inquirer, the second formal step in the Presbyterian Church towards entry to the ministry of “word and sacrament.”

My trip had been already a comedy of miscues. I left Gulfport about 1:30PM (Central Daylight Time), about an hour and a half late because I lingered in my office working on financial receipts and talking with staff who were going to a client’s house to work in my absence. It is a seven hour drive and I wanted to get in an early hour, about 8PM Eastern Daylight Time in order to go over all my paperwork in advance of the meeting on Thursday.

I set my ipod up in the truck and was listening to a shuffle through my library on my ride. After about 45 minutes driving I heard a musical riff that I was certain was my cell phone. I reached over to the seat where I normally place it and…it wasn’t there. It must have slipped behind my seat. I pull over at the first convenient place and search the truck…nothing.

I think for a while, do I go back and find it in my RV or just drive on? I’m about 50 miles out of Gulfport and decide since I’m going to be in Chattanooga for the rest of the weekend and hardly a day goes by that I do not get several calls from a home owner or staff person about something – I need that phone. So I turn around and head back down US49 for Gulfport, not believing I’ve done this, it will cause me at least an hour and a half delay.

On the way back I run through my steps before I left my RV. That phone must be in the truck. I pull over at the first convenient spot and search again , everywhere– no phone. I face the music and drive all the way back to Gulfport. The phone is in my TV cabinet with my old personal cell phone. I must have checked that phone and put my other one down to do it. Rats!

So I start again. Four and one-half hours later and two hours behind my desired schedule I get to Birmingham (the blessing now, at least I missed the rush hour traffic and was able to go straight through on I-59 rather than the longer loop around town). I’ve got a headache and am hungry so I stop at a Subway that I visit some times on my way down. Rather than taking my sub with me and trying to eat and drive, I decide to be cool and eat in the shop.

When I leave I drive down to the entrance ramps and turn left as usual on my trip down. Unfortunately as I approach the Birmingham Airport twenty miles later I realize I’m heading south, not north. Rats!

So I pull up to my home about 11:30PM, disgusted and somewhat embarrassed.

None the less, the interview went quite well, we had a very good series of questions and answers that covered the waterfront from baptism to writing to choice of seminary (I’ll share some with you later) and the Committee welcomed me into the Inquirer status.

Then we head back for Chattanooga, deciding to try the I-40/I-75 route rather than the US27 route through Dayton (remember the Scopes Monkey Trial?) to see which is shorter. Unbeknownst to me because I’m pretty high on having gotten to this point and Jen and are talking up a storm over it, when we get to the I-40 ramp we take I-40W towards Nashville rather than I-40E towards Knoxville. Fifty miles later we realize our mistake. Sheepishly and sufficiently chastened, we turn around and head for home arriving about an hour-plus later than planned.

Still it has been a great day, the questions in my interview were particularly constructive, and still a little daunted, I move on towards the future, whatever it beholds.

I send along a word of thanks to all my unnamed friends who have made my life so rich and encouraged me knowingly or not. Keep me in your prayers.

Peace

Day 290 - The Poor Among Us

My dear friend Heather over at Lagniappe Church in Bay St. Louis (who often makes me think too hard about these things) has written in her blog about the challenge of helping folks she sees who are facing hard times, utility cut-off, overdue rent and the like and asking for help from the church. She talked about James1:27: "...that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress..." but she could have chosen Isaiah 1:16-17 or Deuteronomy, or may other readings of a similar imperative in both the Hebrew and Christian writings that invoke the same responsibility.

Somewhat as a practical justification she mentioned the oft-quoted reply of Jesus in Matthew 26:11 "...you will always have the poor with you." But it serves to read the whole story, verses 6-13. I think she means us to think about this a little harder.

In verses 6-13, rather than simply acknowledging that by God's will there will always be poor among us, could Jesus perhaps have slipped into a little sarcasm to his jealous disciples (since He had always readily quoted Isaiah) by subtly reminding them (and us) or bemoaning our intrinsic failure to heed the teaching of James 1:27, or Isaiah 1:16-17, or the Beatitudes; namely, our failure to follow God's directive to insure there will be no poor is a reflection on our own sinful nature?

Peace

Henry

Day 286 - Dreams

I usually avoid somewhat familiar quotations, but this quote from Johann Wolfgang von Goethe partly heard on public radio last week pretty much validates my experience of both success and failure, the more remarkable success being my finding my way to this mission activity in Mississippi:

"Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative and creation, there is one elementary truth the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings and material assistance which no man(person) could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Begin it now."

So, "Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it."

(Italic insert is mine.)

Day 282 - I'm sending out an SOS...

Yes, I'm old enough to remember the Police - Roxanne, A little Black Spot on the Sun Today...

Normally I'd just tell you all the stories of need down here and wait for you, but I get the feeling that many people are thinking there isn't much to do in the post-Katrina area. Believe me there is.

Every week new cases come our way:

- Families who were frozen in despair or confusion that now are seeking help,

- Folks who made really bad financial decisions because they never had to manage something like a big insurance check, or were stiffed by bogus contractors,

- Folks who maybe were too proud to ask for help and are self-funding their work but can't carry the load of a full time job, being a father and mother and do their own construction work. (I've been myself there and know how it drains you.)

This is a personal call or help. I have two families in Gulfport and at least one in the Pascagoula area facing removal of their FEMA cottages in between Jan. 31 and March 31 with no good alternatives, and unless we get more help for them in the near term, they will be in dire straights.

I have no volunteers for the last half of January and all of February in the Gulfport area. We have maybe 50 families in our current backlog.

Put together a 5 or 10 person crew, even more if you can, sign up and come on down in the last part of January or any time in February. There is a lot of drywall work, finish plumbing, flooring to do to list a few jobs. You will enjoy it. This is your chance to be, not the Police, but one of those unsung, beloved heroes that define us as a people.

What are you doing that is more important?

(We also could use more people in the spring (April-June).)

I look forward to seeing you soon.

Day 280 - Doubt

I viewed the film, Doubt, New Year’s evening. It is a fascinating and thought provoking study of certitude and ambiguity with a very powerful and unsettling closing scene that should tweak anyone’s conscience and bring a tear of sorrow over our own judgments.

Reviewers opine the film isn’t about its ostensible focus; the struggle of a nun to show a priest has had an inappropriate relationship with an altar boy, but about the clash between new and old ways. While both are certainly subtexts, to me the film delves deeply into the matter of judgment - theological certitude (I use the word theological because in our Christian belief, every judgment is a theological problem), and into the matter of obligatory charity and compassion implicit in our belief.

Though the film occurs in a Catholic milieu, it applies to any church, its members and its leaders, even a Presbyterian one. It is always a failure when a Christian organization uses expediency not compassion to justify its acts. I suspect expediency seems an ostensible safe harbor for “leadership” when the person or persons pointing out a need for compassion and change are viewed as too peripatetic; when a controversy over doing the right thing might slow a manager’s upward mobility in the organization; or when the organization just fears controversy over its actions.

We all are susceptible to it - congregants who try to be faithful but are slaves to their wants and fears; congregations who fear the loss of a minister; a minister who fears the search for a congregation; potentates in the corporate church hierarchy who seem slaves to their position too fearful of change to act as leaders, or who have lost the message of the Gospel that to succeed you must fail to be recognized for it; me writing this critical piece.

“Walking the talk” is a hard row for us to hoe. I guess the whole idea of servant leadership is too alien for us to doubt our prejudices, to trust in God or to eschew a Machiavellian judgment (or appreciate that we have made it).

There are days when I doubt we can find financial resources to replace a home of a seventy-eight year old woman living in a mold-filled mobile home, or the volunteer labor to get a mother, husband and child back into their house after three years living apart. Some days relief organizations bring four or five (or twenty) cases to me asking for our construction help but my doubt of how long we will be allowed to stay and when we will have volunteers keeps me from shouting, “Yes we will help.”

But when we do manage to overcome the seduction of doubt – how sweet it is!