The Complexity

Tomorrow is our last day of work, and it's going to be followed up by a shrimp fest, thanks to Bryan. It's been an amazing, educational week, and all you have to do is read people's blog entries to catch up with the details of our days--from attending a Baptist church service, to visiting the two UU churches in New Orleans, to digging and gutting and painting and sweating....

 What I'm seeing, as we search for a full day's work tomorrow, is the complexity of all that a hurricane's aftermath brings. What's valuable work for a volunteer? What's satisfying? What's it mean if we don't get a full day's work? What's it mean to work one day in the hundred year old home of one family in East Biloxi, ripping out walls and wondering if the house will even be able to be saved, then going out to the Biloxian "suburbs," where there are different colors and trims for every room, and we spend our time touching up last patches of paint, feeling a little Martha Stewart-esque? 

 The truth of this hurricane is that it creates such chaos that it's hard to get one's mind around the systems that need to be in place, for systems to be in place, for systems to be in place. There are economic systems, organizational systems, racial relation systems, insurance systems, volunteer systems, on and on and on, that all tie into each other, sometimes creating threads of compassion and progress, sometimes knotting up and creating yet further obstacles to progress. 

So there are days that are frustrating, when we're not ripping apart walls or leveling lawns, or when we're not all able to work together on one site. But I believe with every day, we are learning as a group just how incredibly complex this situation is, that we are only one very small part of a picture that is far too large for any one of us to see in its entirety. I'm extraordinarily grateful for the members of this group who have been willing to share honestly and openly all they have experienced in this journey together. I very much hope members of the UU Church of Davis, and the community of Davis will feel free to ask us questions when we return, that we will be able to share our journey, in words, photographs, and in even in the memories our bodies carry of hammering, prying, painting, shoveling, and hauling. 

 I hope too people will realize there are years and years ahead of this community needing the generous help of strangers. It is indeed a vast, complex situation. And one way to understand that is to come down here and witness. I'm so glad we have this week.

Peace,

Eliza