So what happens next?

Monday morning (Marathon Meeting Mondays, remember?) I was sitting in devotion when the reality of my life struck me.

Oh my God. I live in New Orleans. I'm sitting in a group of incredible people I completely love. I live in a church and work at the most fantastically dynamic home I've ever been in. HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?

I've gotten a lot of questions about what I want to do after I finish this. I can answer this with total honesty: I don't know.

Life in community is so beautiful, I don't know if I can leave it. There is an undercurrent of "truth" that once you get a little older, it's time to settle down, get an apartment/house, get a real job, and move on.


But that isn't the only way we can live. Sure, it's the dominant narrative in our country right now, but that doesn't make it right. It's not really natural to live so isolated--in an apartment or house with only kids and a partner. There are options.

And you know what? It's not really hard. Some things about it suck (the shower is the first thing that leaps to mind,) but the benefits far outweigh the annoyance. So as far as I can tell right now--I want to live in some sort of true community, if it's possible.

The other parts: where do I want to go, where do I want to live? Well...I'm torn.

I love New Orleans. I want to throw myself into life here completely, put down my anchor, and be a part of this unique and rebuilding city. I love the music, I love the feel, I love the people. I love the community. And I love First Grace--it's an incredible church community that is really based on love. I adore the residents at Hagar's House and have gotten back to where I look forward to coming to work.

But.

There is a mountain-shaped hole in my heart, a hole that longs for forests and waterfalls and mossy rocks. There is an ache where my family lives that I can't replace here. There is a surety and certainty in the love of Konnoak, my home church, that I miss. There are so many people I miss every day--friends and church family I just don't see anymore.

New Orleans is carving its place in my heart right next to the Blue Ridge Parkway--PoBoys beside Boone Drug, First Grace beside Konnoak, brass band beside orchestra. And I feel this holding back that I feel like is interrupting life here, this knowledge that I could be gone come October 2011.

So many people are transient residents here--tons of young, progressive white kids come down with AmeriCorps or Catholic Worker or US-2, do their job, and leave. And yes, that's great and wonderful.

But I don't want to be another fleeting face here. And I honestly don't know if I can leave.

Probably the longest "I don't know" you've read in awhile. Sorry for the rambling...I'm still trying to sort it out.

If any US-2s or Mission Interns (or anyone else, really,) has any similar thoughts, I'd love to hear them.

Lessons from my first Mardi Gras

1) When feeling ill, "Maybe going to a bar to watch the Superbowl will settle my stomach" is NOT a sound logic sequence.

2) No one in New Orleans will EVER get tired of the "Who Dat?" song.

3) Turning a bicycle into a fish is not QUITE as difficult as it seems.

4) Said Fishbike does not appreciate being left out in the rain.

5) You should always keep costume items on hand. Face paint and body glitter are a good decision, too. And hair dye.

6) Not all Mardi Gras "throws" (what people chuck off the floats) are created equal. Behold, the coveted Muses shoe:

And lastly...

7) You do NOT, I repeat, DO NOT, have to flash any body part to get beads.

OK, serious post coming tomorrow!

Celebrate!

Yesterday was Epiphany, the 12th day of Christmas. For many places, this means it's time to take down the tree and change the decorations in the sanctuary.

We took down the Hagar's House Christmas tree, which was way more of a struggle than it had to be. Do you have any idea how many pine needles fall off a tree in three weeks? A couple residents and I un-adorned it, finding stray ornaments all over the living room (seriously, the tree did not suffer THAT much abuse. How did that many ornaments fall off?)

We managed to corrall it enough to get it out the door and onto the curb. I covered my brand-new jeans in tree sap (sorry, Granny...Barrett told me it comes out, though!) Someone swept up all the pine needles, and in most places, Epiphany leads to the holiday lull between New Year's and Easter (Valentine's Day is totally contrived and therefore does not count.)

HOWEVER! Epiphany also means it's the beginning of CARNIVAL SEASON!!! After going to see Invictus (note: that movie entirely about rugby, NOT Nelson Mandela. He's in there too, of course, but...yeah. It's about rugby,) Nichol, Angela and I went on a quest to find the year's first King Cake!

King Cake is a cinnimon-roll style cake, covered in sprinkles. Picture courtesy of Wikipedia:

It also comes with a baby! The baby is not actually cooked in the cake anymore--something about "choking hazards," and "lawsuits," I don't even know.

THE RULES as I, a non-local, understand them:

1) It is bad luck to eat a king cake before Epiphany.

2) The person who buys the king cake puts the baby in, so they remember where they put it.

3) Whoever gets the baby has to buy the next king cake.

I am so excited about this! I've had the conversation with Mom and Shirley numerous times that we need more festivals in life. I think there's a degree of joy and celebration of life that we lose without it.

Even if you're not in New Orleans, may this festival season be joyous for you! We live in a beautiful, incredible, fun world filled with beautiful and incredible people. Yes there's ugliness, there are terrible things happening, and we can't ever forget that and strive to change things. But we're doing a disservice to this amazing life God has given us if we don't take time to celebrate, and be happy.

So go eat king cake! And hope you don't get the baby. :)

Captive Israel

Last night, I went with some of my roommates to a Taize service nearby. If you're unfamiliar with a Taize style service, it's a service of music and silent meditation.

We walked into the chapel to find it full of candles. The first song we were in there to sing was "O Come Emmanuel."

I know this song--I've sung it all my life, I have the words memorized. But last night, repeating the first verse in a chapel filled with flickering candlelight, I heard the words in a new way.

O come o come Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel


In hearing this song, I realized that to me, Israel is now New Orleans. And New Orleans is captive--captive by crooked politicians who sit on federal money and refuse to rebuild. Captive by federal contractors who condemn and demolish sturdy buildings and replace them with shacks. Captive by a devastating housing crisis and crime rates among the highest in the nation. Captive by a levee system only repaired to pre-Katrina strength.

But like Israel, there is joy and beauty in New Orleans. It's a city of joy and love, commradire and struggle. It's a place of music and history. It's a place where people at two seperate tables who have never met strike up a conversation and share their wine.

Rejoice! Rejoice
Emmanuel shall come to thee
O Israel


Emmanual--God with us--comes to this city each time a church opens a food pantry. Each time there is a meeting to struggle for a viable public health care option. Each time there is a festival of music. Each time a community of worshipers comes together regardless of race, class, gender identification or language, God is with us.

And through the captivity, through the struggle, through the fear, God is with us.

Emmanuel.

First Families!

Ladies and gentlemen, Hagar's House is now open to women with children! WOO-HOO!!! We now have a mom and baby, a mom and two kids, and another resident with a baby on the way, IN ADDITION to the five single women already living here! Whew! It's been chaotic, but mostly in a joyous way.

This weekend was wonderful. I went down to Bourbon Street with Nichol for the first time and feel absolutely no desire to ever, ever go there again. However, when there's an icky guy trying to talk to you, "I'm a missionary" is a FANTASTIC way to get him to clear off. :)

Children's Choir Sunday went VERY well! The power went off about a half hour before we started, (boo,) but we had candles and it was fine in the dark. After six kids last week, we had twelve show up Sunday! We were thrilled.

Two of my wonderful roommates!

Nichol, on the left, is heading up the children's choir. Jennie and I are helping--Jennie playing piano, me as an assistant. It's been a lot of fun so far.

The sanctuary at First Grace

As you can see, the sanctuary doesn't look too typical. There's tile floor, chairs instead of pews, a small alter. That's because when the church re-opened after Katrina, they decided to use the resources they had to start ministries up, rather than pretty up the sanctuary. Jennie showed me some pictures of what the church looked like two years after the storm--I'll have to see if I can load them sometime next week.

Our church!

This is FGUMC from the corner of Jeff Davis and Canal Street.

And finally...

MO'ISA!!!

We have a dog! I can't remember if I mentioned that before. His name is Mo'Isa, which is a combination of Mohammed and Jesus. (That's what they told me anyway...I'm not really sure how they create the name 'Moi'Isa' but I'm prepared to go with it.) He is tiny and adorable. And no, of course he is not sitting on my bed because that would be UNHYGENIC and WRONG, and I would NEVER ALLOW IT.

Ahem.

Hope you're doing well!