Fill… Spill… Thrill…

Lisa Kramme
Director of Faith Formation
Nebraska Synod, ELCA

“We’ve helped this much,” the man with small, gold hoop earrings said, “but there’s this much to do to make things better.”

The man gestured as he spoke, holding up two index fingers about an inch apart during the first part of his statement. Along with the latter part of his statement, his arms flung open wide, away from the center of his body in exaggerated arcs to show that the tasks needing done seemed infinite.

Hadn’t this man heard Polly? Polly told us several times just a few hours before, “Don’t think that what you are doing is small or unimportant.”
But I had asked people to share their thoughts about what they had done that day during a service learning project at the ELCA Youth Gathering, so I respectfully repeated this man’s contribution into the microphone on the motor coach so all 40 people on the bus could hear what he said.

When I asked people what they felt during their day of service in St. Bernard Parish near New Orleans, Sarah said, “hope,” and Jamie, a probation officer in Iowa when he wasn’t chaperoning youth at the Gathering added, “blessed.”

We were certainly blessed that day. First, there was the woman who stopped in a four-lane roadway just to exclaim to us working to clean it up, “This road has never looked so good!” She told us that she had lived here before Hurricane Katrina, and although people had warned her not to return to the area to live, she “came back like bad grass.” We all appreciated her comments.

Then there was Lonnie. He drove past our group once, heading into town, only to make a couple U-turns and finally come back down our side of the road, pulling over and rolling down his window to shout his thanks to us as we worked in the median while traffic sped by in between us. We could tell that he had more to say, so three of us crossed the highway to meet Lonnie on the shoulder of the road.

“I work for the utility company back there.” He pointed to a one-story brick building. He told us how his business had been under water and that the building was reduced to its I-beams by the flood following Katrina. Lonnie got back into his truck eventually, but only after he shared how people offered to help him rebuild his own home and how he only recently was able to talk about the relief efforts and people’s generosity without crying. Even though Lonnie seemed like a no-nonsense man who probably doesn’t cry much, I believed him. As Lonnie drove off, he said that our group of 40 could stop by his business to cool off, use the restroom and get a cold drink.

When it was nearly time to break for lunch, we gathered outside our bus, and a woman quickly turned into the parking lot where we were. She said, “You see that Subway there? I’m the owner, and I want to buy your lunch today.” We thanked her and shared that we actually had packed Subway sandwiches for lunch that day. Since our bottles of water were getting warm, however, I shared that our group would really appreciate a cold fountain drink. “Whatever you want! I’ll call ahead and let them know you’re on your way,” she responded.

By the time we were done with our work that afternoon, all of us were wilting in the heat and humidity of coastal Louisiana. The water supply we had carried with us had been depleted, and our bus driver was still winding his way through the neighborhood to pick us up and bring over the rest of our water. As we moved into the shade of a small group of trees, a construction worker nearby held up a full case of water, offering it to the group like our pastor raises the chalice during the words of institution in worship. Everybody cheered.

We had one more stop to make before we headed back to New Orleans. It was at Polly’s house. Polly had blessed us this day as well, but it wasn’t with water or food or a place to cool down. Polly blessed us with her story. It was a story in which we learned that she was required to stay in St. Bernard Parish during Hurricane Katrina due to her work with the local government. Since she wasn’t expecting the catastrophe that Katrina turned out to be, she had packed only three days’ worth of clothing and simply moved her children’s pictures from under her bed (where they were stored while she waited for a chance to put them into albums) to on top of the bed underneath the bedspread. Polly only ended up returning to her home after several months and after the water had receded from its high point in her attic. The children’s photos were gone, and all of her clothing had been swept away or dissolved in the salt water of the flood.

Polly devotes her time and energy now to helping her community recover and move forward together. She wants people to move back to the community. She wants people to take pride in their neighborhoods so that they can attract new people to the area. Polly knows that, when the people in her neighborhood get together to do the simple act of planting flowers around their mailboxes along the street, they are doing more than planting flowers. They are adding beauty to an area that witnessed so much destruction. They are building a community of neighbors who support and care for one another. They are planting hope for the future.

“Don’t think that what you’re doing is small or unimportant,” Polly told us. The friendly words, cold drinks and hospitality of the people of New Orleans and St. Bernard Parish may have been small acts of kindness, but they blessed us beyond imagining. I pray that the recent acts of servanthood, no matter how great or small, displayed by the 37,000 who attended the recent ELCA Youth Gathering, will bless the people of Louisiana beyond all imagining as well.