There are not a lot of trees in the Lower 9th Ward of New Orleans. There aren't many people, either. There are a lot of very tall weeds on vacant plots, a lot of empty, ruined houses, and a lot of reminders of Hurricane Katrina's floodwaters two years ago.
Recently I had a chance to spend time in New Orleans as part of a mission team working with Habitat for Humanity in the nearby Upper 9th Ward. Our crew built on the work of others--framing, roofing, setting windows--and then departed to let some new team pick up the progress.
The Upper 9th is so different than the Lower 9th, a difference that can probably be linked to a few more feet of elevation. The flood waters in the Upper 9th were considerably less than in the Lower 9th, and as a result people are rebuilding with greater confidence. Many abandoned homes certainly remain in the Upper 9th, also many FEMA trailers parked awkwardly beside gutted houses on tiny lots, yet normal life is regenerating there.
But the Lower 9th is a contradiction--mostly ghost town, but with a brand new elementary school. A long series of traffic lights, but very few cars to stop and go. Stores with no customers. Signs with no messages. Churches with no services.
A comeback for the Lower 9th is impeded by large economic obstacles. Before Katrina the area was populated by lower income families in houses of modest value. Even for those with insurance coverage, a check covering the value of the lost home would be too small to pay for reconstruction. Because the land is below water level, and the potential clientele poor, developers are reluctant to step in and speculate, the risks are too high.
So the Lower 9th sits largely unchanged since the flood dried up. A few families have ventured home, but too few.
A friend on mine said that God is taking care of the Lower 9th--he's turning it into a park. That may be so, but if it is, I can't imagine anyone making a recreational visit. But who knows? People buy tee shirts and postcards in Death Valley, after all.
Rather than a park, I think God may be turning the Lower 9th into a garden, sort of an Eden, but long, long after the fall. It is a fertile garden, but it grows mainly weeds. It's a garden in need of gardeners--men and women to till the cursed ground, plant seeds, harvest fruit.
There are some who believe the Lower 9th should be abandoned--its too low, too vulnerable, too expensive to protect from the next storm. Just give it back to God, some might say.
But it's too late for that. God already gave it to us. He said take care of it, be fruitful and multiply. The Lower 9th is waiting for God's people to come and go to work.
A famous, albeit mythical resident of New Orleans once said she was dependent on the kindness of strangers. That seems a motto for the Lower 9th today. It is a fallen place, a garden in need of gardeners.
Recently I had a chance to spend time in New Orleans as part of a mission team working with Habitat for Humanity in the nearby Upper 9th Ward. Our crew built on the work of others--framing, roofing, setting windows--and then departed to let some new team pick up the progress.
The Upper 9th is so different than the Lower 9th, a difference that can probably be linked to a few more feet of elevation. The flood waters in the Upper 9th were considerably less than in the Lower 9th, and as a result people are rebuilding with greater confidence. Many abandoned homes certainly remain in the Upper 9th, also many FEMA trailers parked awkwardly beside gutted houses on tiny lots, yet normal life is regenerating there.
But the Lower 9th is a contradiction--mostly ghost town, but with a brand new elementary school. A long series of traffic lights, but very few cars to stop and go. Stores with no customers. Signs with no messages. Churches with no services.
A comeback for the Lower 9th is impeded by large economic obstacles. Before Katrina the area was populated by lower income families in houses of modest value. Even for those with insurance coverage, a check covering the value of the lost home would be too small to pay for reconstruction. Because the land is below water level, and the potential clientele poor, developers are reluctant to step in and speculate, the risks are too high.
So the Lower 9th sits largely unchanged since the flood dried up. A few families have ventured home, but too few.
A friend on mine said that God is taking care of the Lower 9th--he's turning it into a park. That may be so, but if it is, I can't imagine anyone making a recreational visit. But who knows? People buy tee shirts and postcards in Death Valley, after all.
Rather than a park, I think God may be turning the Lower 9th into a garden, sort of an Eden, but long, long after the fall. It is a fertile garden, but it grows mainly weeds. It's a garden in need of gardeners--men and women to till the cursed ground, plant seeds, harvest fruit.
There are some who believe the Lower 9th should be abandoned--its too low, too vulnerable, too expensive to protect from the next storm. Just give it back to God, some might say.
But it's too late for that. God already gave it to us. He said take care of it, be fruitful and multiply. The Lower 9th is waiting for God's people to come and go to work.
A famous, albeit mythical resident of New Orleans once said she was dependent on the kindness of strangers. That seems a motto for the Lower 9th today. It is a fallen place, a garden in need of gardeners.
Comments
I read about such couragoeus people and people who pulled together to help strangers. Amazing.
I find it encouraging that even though NO isn't in the news anymore, people still trek down south to help out. Thanks for organizing and encouraging the latest group of volunteers.