The Narrow Gate

Welcome to the continuation of my blog, post-seminary. Ministry and evangelism have brought me back home to Chattanooga. I welcome your company on my journey.

The original blog, Down In Mississippi, shared stories from 2008 and 2009 of the hope and determination of people in the face of disaster wrought by the hurricanes Rita and Katrina in 2005, of work done primarily by volunteers from churches across America and with financial support of many aid agencies and private donations and the Church. My Mississippi posts really ended with the post of August 16, 2009. Much work, especially for the neediest, remained undone after the denominational church pulled out. Such is the nature of institutions. The world still needs your hands for a hand up. I commend to you my seven stories, Down in Mississippi I -VII, at the bottom of this page and the blog posts. They describe an experience of grace.



Saturday, April 25, 2009

Day 391 - Aphasia

The last volunteers left early this morning. Orange Grove is now history. Two of the Fairfax crew flew out yesterday and the other two left by van today. The Indiana crew left before I could get out of my RV to say good by.

It was a strange feeling yesterday, hard to explain. I went back to the tool trailer to organize the returned tools and realized, "why?"- they aren't going out again with a work crew. I did gather up some sanding poles and ends so we can make a big push in Pearlington next week on my project.

On my way to the dining tent I look at the totem poles with all the volunteer church signs. The thought of screwing the Penn State sign lying on the ground back onto the pole came to me but then I think, no one is coming back. I'll do it later.

Walking around the dining tent I settle in over a couple cups of coffee before a lazy breakfast of oatmeal and toast. Thoughts of past volunteers sweep through my mind. It is as if ghosts or auras are walking around the tent. It reminds me of the setting of Our Town...

I worry about the projects for next week but catch myself; there are no visits to work sites for next week to prepare for the incoming volunteers tomorrow. It's over, except for any task the work site manager or I go out to do to finally close a project or recover an errant tool.

Sitting at the dining table and reading the latest "Outlook" also is discomfiting. The articles are so out of touch with what is going on in the world, even the ones on relevant subjects have a plastic veneer to them, Talking Heads comes to mind. I see one on the staff cutbacks at the office in Louisville, boy it doesn't do justice to the facts.

I have to wait on my work site manager to get me his reports for the last week but my focus needs to turn fully to Pearlington.

I guess I'll fill up my truck with diesel leave and drive to Pearlington to drop off those tools, and on to New Orleans to catch up with my son Russell and his friend.

On the way over I'll think about what words I can't voice right now, maybe they will come later.


Peace,
Henry

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