The calm before...

Never did I dream that when my brother dropped me off in New Orleans with a card that contained $250 for 'evacuation' would I ever have to use it. Let alone on the 3-year anniversary of Katrina.

I'm safe in Tulsa where Karl was very glad to see me arrive safe and sound. I headed out of St. Bernard yesterday at 6 pm up Paris Rd. only to see a handful of banks and businesses boarded up in preparation for Gustav. I took 610-W and had very little traffic, as compared to normal city traffic. When I hit the turn for 55-N, it was smooth sailing from there. I was so focused on getting here that I didn't process much of the week's events... until now.

After driving through the night, I'm exhausted, but I can't sleep. It's all starting to hit me, in the calm before the storm.

As I drove away from the city that has been my home for the past year, signs of Gustav were all around. Those signs slipped away the farther north I got... the radio station announcing evacuation by Parish was out of range by Jackson, MS, the traffic thinned, and you would never know that over a million people were a few hours south, making plans to flee the impending hurricane.

This week has been a blur, but I want to memorialize it... for the sake of St. Bernard and it's residents.

Monday/Tuesday- We were eagerly completing our plans for the 24-Hour Build to honor the 3-year anniversary of Katrina, when a new storm--Gustav--appeared on the radar. It was just a tropical storm, nothing to worry about. We continued making directions for our 100+ volunteers set to work 3 shifts around the clock on 5 homes in St. Bernard. Miss Ann was thrilled to hear that she would be able to move in by the end of the build on Saturday.

Wednesday- I was glued to map after map of Gustav's progress and by the time Zack and Liz (co-directors and founders of St. Bernard Project) returned from the Democratic National Convention on Wednesday afternoon, I was very ready to 'turn over the reigns' and my newly crafted evacuation plan to them. Talk of Hurricane Gustav was in the air... you could feel the skepticism and worry mixed with hope and resiliency in the office. It seemed to be heading our way, but you can never really tell that far out. We all kept saying, "Tomorrow we will know more and can make decisions then." We met as a management team and decided that we would start to prepare for the worst, while modeling to our nervous homeowners that there was still hope of Gustav passing New Orleans right on by. Nevertheless, we called all of our out of state volunteers and urged them not to travel to Louisiana in case of an evacuation. The 24 Hour Build thus became a normal work schedule on a very important day.

Thursday- As computer generated models continued to track Gustav's progress directly into the Gulf Coast by Labor Day, we decided to put our evacuation plan into action. St. Bernard Project staff rallied and pulled tools from all our houses except 24 Hour Build houses, dumped trash, reorganized the warehouse, hauled tools to the second story, and consoled residents. I think we were all caught up in the frenzy of activity. Everyone sprung into action, worked as a team, and demonstrated an amazing ability to work well under pressure--together. After work, we had an all-staff meeting and mandated that all SBP Staff begin implementing their personal evacuation plan by 8 am on Saturday, with a mandatory evacuation of St. Bernard Parish most likely to follow. I went home to pack.

It's odd to look around your home and consider, "What can't I live without? What really is essential to my existence?" We were advised to bring enough food and water for 7 days, as things can get hairy during evacuation time. I'd heard enough horror stories of Katrina evacuees to know that I wanted to leave as soon as the office was secure. What I'm pondering now is what that same scenario would feel like for a family with an entire house full of years of belongings, or a home that was just rebuilt since Katrina. Evacuating from my small, unfurnished apartment is no comparison.

Friday- I loaded my car and headed into work on the 3-year anniversary of Katrina, anticipating my own evacuation deadline of 6 pm. We ended up with about 30 volunteers for the 24 Hour Build working on 4 homes. We had planned and planned for the anniversary build, yet Gustav's arrival overshadowed. Again, the SBP staff did what they do best and pulled off an amazing amount of work to complete the final pre-storm preparations. It was another flurry of activity, but with much purpose... many thoughts, fewer words, and awkward goodbyes. We hugged each other and went our separate ways into the unknown with our phone trees in hand and promises to keep in touch as we scattered.

Saturday- My phone has been consistently buzzing with calls and texts from staff members as they complete their travel and wait. We wait for any indication, just an inkling of what the future will hold.

As I sit here in Oklahoma, it feels like a dream... I drove north and removed myself from the path of the storm, but I feel so far removed, so quickly. I've been reduced from my first-hand experience to news snippets and emotionless articles on www.nola.com. In all the planning and preparing I didn't process. Now I will... in this space from the work of rebuilding, in this safe haven over 700 miles from the place I've learned to call home.

Anniversary Worry Bracing for the Worst

On the 3-year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, we at the St. Bernard Project are preparing for another potential threat--Tropical Storm Gustav. It is expected that by the end of the day, Gustav will be back to CAT 1 and reach make landfall along the Gulf Coast (exact location unknown) as a CAT 3 by Monday sometime.

Residents of St. Bernard are anxious and volunteers like myself don't know really know what to expect. In anticipation of evacuation tomorrow, I will be leaving tonight after we have sufficiently battened down the hatches here at the office. This photo gives you an idea of what my office looks like this afternoon. Soon to be filled up with the remaining tools from the last 4 houses in operation today.

David Temple and his wife, Amy, have graciously opened up their home in Little Rock to me as my first stop on the evacuation route. From there I will head on to Tulsa to visit Karl.

I really can't believe how odd this feels... I have plenty of food and water and my car is filled with St. Bernard Project documents as well as my own personal essentials. I'm hoping that the warning of "4x longer drive time during evacuation" will not be the case in my situation.

I would greatly appreciate your thoughts and prayers for a safe evacuation for myself and all of our volunteers!

More soon...

Louisiana Summertime, One Day at a Time

It has been recently called to my attention that it has been over 5 months since I have posted a thing on this blog. I wish I could say that my public has been up in arms and counting the days until this day when I would write again. I do have one fan though! The Pops. His ghost comments have inspired me to begin anew and blog yet again!
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School began here yesterday in New Orleans and the voice on the radio reminded drivers to look out for buses and flashing school zones on the morning commute. This reality is unfathomable to me. For months I was anticipating the sweltering, oppressive Louisiana summer and seriously wondering if I would survive without complete misery. I anticipated sleepless nights and wanting to make myself a bed of ice cubes. I had visions of hurricane evacuations and wondered how many hours it would take me on I-10 to make my way clear of the NOLA skyline. Now that August is nearly half-over, I guess it's safe to say that I'm in the clear. Don't mistake me--we are very much in the middle of Hurricane Season and it has been HOT and HUMID, but I guess what they say about your body 'adjusting' is, in fact, true. (I'm sure that my apartment with central air has something to do with that, though I keep the temperature between 78 and 80.) This season in the deep south of southeastern Louisiana that I have dreaded has not been nearly as painful as I had imagined.

It seems that this is often how life goes. We anticipate something, good or bad, and before we know it, that time has passed us by. Did we enjoy those moments of expectation? Did they cause undue stress and irritation? Did we trust or did we manipulate?

I just spoke with a friend about taking each day as it comes. That's what I'm aiming for... having the faith and trust just for today. Not for tomorrow or the next day. Just for today. And sometimes just for this moment.

Philippians 4 shares wisdom on this:

4Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! 5Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. 6Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

8Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. 9Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.

12I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. 13I can do everything through him who gives me strength.

May it only be through His strength and for His glory that I live.