Attention

Vivian thinks it is kinda creepy. I am a little bemused, and said it is the hand of God. The triage nurse brought me a rubber glove with ice to place on my shin, where I have a gory little gash from a misstep I took on my worksite today.

Yesterday I gutted. Today, Monday, was supposed to be a day off for gutters, and so we slept late. As I was waking, I overheard some guys talking about helping out on another house, so they didn’t have to be idle, and I said to myself, “Self, I don’t want to be idle either,” so I offered to join them. They needed the help. I’ve been to New Orleans three times since the Hurricane, and conditions have not changed a lot, except there is evidence of hope and efforts to rebuild. The evidence is in the attitude and graciousness of our host city’s residents. The city, in the poorest areas (by which I mean to be sure you are aware that the homes of the wealthiest, as in many cities, are rarely built in flood plains), looks like a war zone. Even though houses don’t look bombed out, they are unliveable, empty, dark, often filled above the windows with clutter. How could I take a day off when I am only here for a week?

I was excited to be able to go out and work. Ours was a little negotiation. We were helping a contractor on a hired job, in exchange for some materials to complete a house through Common Ground Collective. I think that’s fair – you have to make negotiations in times of disaster, especially when the money is not flowing to those who really need it (thanks, politicians not working together).

We laid footing and cinder blocks to support the wooden beams of the floor (the cheapest way to build a foundation), raised about 28 inches above the ground. Since we were walking on beams, we laid boards out, but the boards would hang over, so you didn’t want to step on the end, or you’d be on a see-saw trip down. As we were wrapping up, I was walking through the house, I glanced down at some string I was coiling, and apparently misjudged what I saw, because inspite of a whole day’s work without incident, down I went. At first it stung, but I wasn’t worried. I did a couple of other things before glancing down and to see my pants legs were damp. Then I pulled up my cuffs and dropped them immediatley – it took a second before I could look at the gash in my leg. Oh well. At least it was the end of the day, and I’d done some good, hard work.

Judy showed up with the whole gang in tow – a little overpowering for an introvert, but I suppose since I am part of a community I have to deal. I’ve never liked fuss when I’m sick – I prefer to crawl in a hole. So, now I am sitting in the Emergency Room – I knew how to get there having driven someone else a couple of nights ago. Maybe I’ll meet a cute intern ;)

I thought about calling the chaplain and having a conversation and prayer – I could write it up for my verbatim for Pastoral Theology, but decided I’d use a previous conversation instead – I’d hate to annoy the chaplain, especially when I have three seminary students hanging out with me, taking pictures of my bloody leg….

The lesson – where is our attention? Where is my attention, what am I seeing down here in New Orleans, not only on the job, but this amazing surrounding, where there is such beauty, culture, history, awesome food – but also such tragedy and hope, defeat and overcoming, destruction and reconstruction. To what are you paying attention? To whom are we paying attention, as we make our lenten journey?