To the Bayou and Beyond!

Enjoy this article from Frank Palazzolo, a member of the K6 team...

To The Bayou And Beyond !

Now I know some of you may think I took a hit off the tailpipe, but Jim can vouch for me, that what I am about to tell you is true. All of it. So let me try to give you a feeling of what took place over 9 days of peace, love, rocks and rolls. It was far-out man!

Captains Log-Star Date 8.1.3

That’s how many episodes of Star Trek begin and our trek to the Bayous of Louisiana were in many ways just as ‘other worldly.’ But when you travel on a mission trip you must be prepared to suspend reality, especially at my age!

As Jim Garlough (my Pod-ner, ie. roomate) and I prepared to begin our 2,400 mile round trip to Houma, Louisiana, neither of us knew what this trip would bring. We simply traveled on faith.

During these long road trips, we usually listen to music, but John Mozena, our itinerant missionary disc jockey, was not with us, so we were forced to talk. It was either that or stare at each other or our belly buttons….that wasn’t going to be pretty, so instead we talked. We talked about religion, politics and just about every subject they tell you not to talk about with friends….that is if you want to stay friends. We still are friends, aren’t we Jim?

Along the way we picked up another sojourner. Abandoned by her parents at the age of three, raised by virtual strangers, married at 17, pregnant and divorced in 11 months this woman faced incredible odds. The statistics say that she should have grown up impoverished and doomed her daughter to a similar fate. But she had a dream to make a better life for herself and her daughter. Today she is a college professor, married and living within our community. Her daughter is successful and living in Phoenix. You just never know what you will find on the road, where it may lead and how it might touch your life.

Anyway, did I ever tell you this one; a rich man came up to Jesus and asked what he had to do to gain the kingdom of Heaven. Jesus said, “sell everything, give it to the poor and then follow me.” The man said, “You can’t be serious.” Ok, so its not a literal translation, but, hey the message is the same, 99% of us wouldn’t make the cut. That realization is probably behind Calvin’s idea that we can only attain Heaven through the Grace of God. That said, at least for one week, 70 of us (45 veterans and 30 rookies) tried to do it the other way…just to see how it might feel.

The Houma Hilton as I like to refer to the Presbyterian Disaster Assistance Camp in Houma, is made up of a trailer for showers, outside sinks, a fair number of port-a-johns and of course 24 wax boxes. The boxes are made to look like tents, but are really just 10x12 boxes, called PODS (hence the term Pod-ner). It stands for personal odor development structures…at least in the summer. No, I am making that up.

So what kind of person would deliberately choose to do make this sacrifice? Well by way of my exhaustive survey, performed between platefuls of red beans and rice, I determined that they ranged in age from 18-80. Roughly half were retired. Quite a few where wealthy, but people came from just about every walk of life and all for their own reasons. There was Terry and his wife, who had sold their 150 physical therapy clinics and Bob the banker and his wife, and Amy who was a housewife in an abusive marriage, and Tom the fireman and Helen the widow and Tom the plant manager and his son a college student. Each brought their own gifts and a sense of wonder.

For those of you who have never been there, each day starts the same, you get up(remember when you reach a certain age all days are good, some are better)…see your breath …run off to the washroom…get coffee…get dressed. Breakfast at 6:30AM and on the road to work by 7:30AM. Evenings are for showers. A brief devotional follows every meal.

On Day 1 someone mentioned at the devotional that the Bible makes many references to Angels, beings that appeared out of nowhere, helped someone and then disappeared. He asked us if in our work we were prepared to be Angels.

Jim got assigned to demolition at the very end of the bayou. At his job-site, a woman’s home, had been destroyed by Hurricane Rita. She got enough money to build a new home, but not enough to tear down the old one. She had been waiting two years for help. Jim and his gang took most of it down using nothing but crowbars.

My own job-site was 20 minutes away from Houma. We traveled along canals lined with both new and damaged shrimp boats along with makeshift shipyards. Along the outskirts drilling rigs searching for oil and gas sprout up like a weed in a garden.

Paula and Butch have lived in their home for 23 years. They have three children, two girls, Rosemary and Theresa, and a boy, Louie. Prior to the hurricane those three had to share one bedroom. Butch had built with his own hands an addition to their house. The house sits about 12 ft in the air on pilings to protect against the storm surge. The addition sits at ground level and is connected to the upper house through an enclosed stairway. Like many other homes, after the Corp of Engineers finished damming the Mississippi to prevent flooding, people choose to build at ground level. When Rita hit with a 4-5 ft storm surge it ripped his addition of its foundation. A couple of years ago he had started to rebuild. But at work he hurt his back and burned his hands. He now receives $660/month in worker’s compensation, and food stamps. He was never able to finish the bedrooms they had planned for their daughters. In the interim, his oldest daughter got married in a $99 wedding dress she found at a second hand store and his other daughter, Theresa, now a graduating senior, who will start community college in the fall, still shares a bedroom with her brother. More than anything they wanted her, to have her own room.

It took six of us a week to finish it, complete with a new closet, a new door and a new electric ceiling fan. As we presented Paula and Theresa with prayer shawls, hand knitted by members of various Presbyterian Women’s groups there were many tears of joy shed.(To see for yourself, go to www.katrina6.joyfullyserving.com /Day 3).

As we loaded our van for the trip back to camp, at the end of the week, clad in my dirty and paint-speckled clothes and wearing my boots with remnants of every previous mission trip still on them, I reflected back on that first morning devotional. Leaning against the van I was hardly a heavenly vision, but as John Travolta said in the movie ‘Michael,’ “I ain’t that kind of Angel.’

As for fun there was lots of it…Daiquiri Dan’s, the Cajun Inn, Stan’s, Bowdien Balls, the 1962 or 63 Capital University homecoming game(time-warp), getting the car stuck in the mud, the scenic route to everywhere( I attribute this to wormholes) and the fine men and women who serve and have served faithfully aboard the USS Harry S. Truman. But as they say in Louisiana, what happens in Louisiana stays in Louisiana…and if you saw the 10 foot gators up close…that’s a good thing!

So on behalf of Jim and I, I want to thank GPMC for the opportunity to serve and let me personally invite the first 100 of you to contact Jim to join us on our next Tour of the South, coming in November 2008. I promise there will be commemorative T-shirts.