Just call me Scout

Happy February 27th! What a beautiful day here in Galveston. After an unseasonably cold winter - or so we are told - Galveston seems to be warming up. Andy is at a conference all day today presenting some work. I'm kind of bummed he is missing this beautiful sunny day, but Nellie and I are making the best of it - we took a nice walk to the beach and Nell had a blast. She LOVES the sand. Its really hilarious to watch. She starts digging a hole and then jumps up to run in big track like circles. Shes certainly got greyhound in her.

Well, this week was an interesting turning point for me in Galveston. I haven't really talked much about the political scene here in this island community. As most people know, Galveston was hit by an incredible hurricane in September of 2008. Hurricanes are not foreign to Gulf Coast dwellers and very much a part of life. Evacuations are semi regular - many folk have told me about their treks out of town in the past for different storms as they make their way into the Gulf. We are incredible greatful to Sam Houston State University for giving our good friend Rob Cramer a job next year, just two hours north of where we are now. Rob is now officially our "evacuation buddy" should the need arise. Better get a nice big apartment buddy!

Storms with incredible "hurricane Ike-like" damage only seem to happen every 100 years. While hurricane Ike was only a class 2 or 3 hurricane in size and wind force, the storm surge or resulting flooding onto the island produced the damage equivalent to a class 5 storm. Many families and business owners lost their homes and stores. It is not uncommon to learn that friends spent 7, 8, 9 months in a hotel before their houses were restored enough to move back home. Many businesses and residents have not moved back yet and this has a terrible effect on the economy as it moves in fits and starts back to life again.

This is the background for my work at the Galveston housing authority. Prior to the storm, the housing authority provided affordable housing solutions for the island poor. A predominantly tourist economy, many island workers make their livelihood in the restaurants and hotels that dot the island. A waiter or waitress may only bring in $25 - 35,000 a year if she's lucky. For one person, this salary can be tolerable. But if a single mom has children to feed, she is in trouble if she can't find an affordable apartment.

When the storm came, the island's public housing had to be torn down as did many rentals that families lived in. Now the question turns to how the island might rebuild so that the lower, middle and upper class can live together to make this island flourish again.

I'll refrain from getting into the details of the arguments. Its surely been interesting to be a part of, to say the least. In many ways, I can understand the drama the island finds itself in. Government (tax payer) funds are at stake. Hurricane Ike spared no one. Rich and poor felt the pain and sadness of losing all they owned and also losing the community they had built. With so many choosing not to return or struggling to get back home, the community has suffered greatly and therefore tensions are high as the city determines how funds are dispersed and who gets what.

Thus, I found myself in cramped city hall quarters on Thursday night listening to 4 hours of public comment from folk on both sides of the debate regarding the island's public housing. My colleagues are feeling beat up. For over a year now, they have fought hard to represent those who are so often without a voice - the poor. In many ways, I felt like an outsider as I am new to the fight and so often do not know the history of what was and what has occurred since the storm.

I felt in the position of 10 year old Scout in Harper Lee's incredible book To Kill a Mockingbird which I just recently read. Scout is the young daughter of a southern white lawyer who defends a black man in the Alabama south. Its an incredible book that displays the intensity and rawness of emotion that erupts in a town over controversy.

There was a woman on Thursday night that really struck a chord in me. Apparently an advocate for affordable housing for some time now, this elderly woman of 96 years old walked up the podium with the help of a cane and noted her decades of struggle for equality. She likened the current arguments to the early days at UTMB when she and her friends fought for a nursing program for black women who wanted a chance at furthering their careers. She pointed at the 6 council persons and the mayor and stated emphatically that "the poor are our conscience" and shame on us if we do not allow for their prosperity in our society also. It was wonderful for me to see so many people walk to the podium and explain how public housing was a stepping stone for their families. Many had children who went on to college and had attained a measure of success for themselves as well.

GHA won a key vote Thursday night. We are to contract with an architect to draw up plans for council approval. The fight still looms large and while I my heart for the poor continues to beat loudly I do also hear the voices of those who don't want to return to the woes of the past. Because the poor live at the margins they are so often impacted and pulled in by detrimental societal forces. We may rebuild structures but we will fail miserably if we do not implement systems to build people too.

Personally, I want to continue to be shaped by those who are frustrated with what was so that we might not be content with doing what is easy. It is easy to build houses. it is much more difficult to change mindsets and to take on new skills - no one is exempt from the process of rebuilding oneself.

Thoughts on a December night

Feeling contemplative tonight...this post could either be a massive brain dump with little to be understood by those who might read it. Or perhaps it evolves into a riveting chapter for my memoirs. ha! who knows but I've got an inkling that there's much to write this evening. excuse any typos...Harley wants to be a part of the fun and is making her presence known already.

So its two days after Christmas and while I am tempted to take the easy route and dictate the day's celebratory events (which were festive and all around fun, as Christmas should be!) I find myself drawn to deeper thoughts. Things that have run around in my head over the past week or more and things that I am remembering today.

a memory:

Last year, as Andy prepared his list of universities that he would tour, he added UTMB on the list because of some great work they are doing with infectious disease. The man loves this stuff!! to be short, I think I packed more books on disease than any other. Nothing like throwing titles like "The Coming Plague" into a box for Safe Keeping :-)

That said...when he told me Texas was on the list I all but laughed out loud. It was actually the butt of the joke for a time over the dinner table. It went something like this:

Friend A: "oh, where are you applying Andy?"
Andy: "a bunch of equally hotsy totsy schools actually. Penn State, Hopkins, UC Denver..."
Court: "THE University of Texas...BAHAHAHAHA!! giddy up!!"
ALL LAUGH, equally loudly and obnoxiously. :-P

needless to say I could hardly imagine living in Texas...much less Galveston! the place that seemed like so many other places that have been damaged by Hurricanes as of late. I have been on two service trips to the Gulf Coast in past years and so when I thought of Galveston...I immediately thought of water damaged wood and trees that still haven't recovered from the water that covered them. That said, he was just going to visit and what are the odds that out of 7 applications it would be the only good fit. (note: truthfully, If I had my way I would have limited all schools to a 50 mile radius around Baltimore. I am a sucker for the comfort zone BUT, clearly, not really the best way to make a decision now is it? :-)

Andy came back from Galveston on the first weekend Saturday of the Lenten season leading into Easter. Growing up Catholic, this season has always held special significance for me. He came off the plane saying that in spite of the damaged surroundings, he really really liked the school! I listened carefully, realizing that the joke might become a reality and began to wonder how I might respond to a plan that might not go the way I expect. That Sunday was the start of our Lenten Series entitled "The Way of the Cross" at church. At the front of the sanctuary the worship team had placed two doors. One was a door that looked like it had been, quite literally, through a hurricane. paint was chipping, raw wood was visible in patches. The 2nd door on the other side of the sanctuary was a really beautiful blue door with a stained glass window in it. Very pretty.

I sat down and told myself that I automatically knew what this sermon was going to be about. If we walk the good walk we will get to head through Heaven's door. The beautiful stained glass door on the right side of the sanctuary. If we do not, we have to walk through the ugly door. I silently told myself that I probably should have slept in that morning because I was truly tired and...I already knew what the sermon was going to be about anyway!

Then John started speaking. He was talking about Jesus' sacrifice and how sometimes it means giving up the ways of the world to take the way of the cross. He then suggested that Jesus beckons us to walk through the beaten, broken door for it leads to life. The beautiful stained glass door, while pretty and shiny, can often lead us to stop walking with God because we are crafting our lives for ourselves FIRST and God second.

I was blown away by God in that moment. Andy had just freshly revealed to me his great interest in this school and here I am staring at a door, that leads to life, that looked like it had come right out of Hurricane ravaged Galveston. I've seen a few of these busted up doors in my work in Baltimore and it was so striking to me!! In reality, I have seen radical transformation happen when folks agree to adopt broken houses, broken families, and broken city streets and seek to reinvigorate and love them. The beautiful door to the right looked like the comfort zone I was building up in my mind. I was totally stunned, in a most humble way, by this new picture in front of me.

All was not fully known then but as we discerned...God placed on our hearts that we might need to trust him on this one. All the doors to other schools were closed and we felt called to follow.

I hang on to this memory. When I walk the dog and see the broken doors that surround us. When I talk to neighbors and hear their broken stories. And when I feel push back from my experience thus far and feel the broken spaces in my heart where I have not yet fully grasped my place here. I hang onto the knowledge that from Brokenness God has done incredible things in my life and in others. Indeed it is only a truly broken spirit that can, in its humbled crawling state, reach out to grasp a new and different alternative that leads to life abundant.

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom."

so that's where I am today if I am going to truly name it. I suppose I've just not fully come to understand my place here - and that leaves an open space that seeks wholeness. If this leads to life however, and I've faith that it will, then consider me a willing passenger. Til then I will hold tight to that broken door in my mind and look out with expectation at the brokenness that I see quite clearly in front of me. Maybe, with a whopping heap of Grace, I can be a part of the journey towards joy with my neighbors...in so doing I might just find my way as well.

I suppose that's it for tonight - enough to ruminate on for now. grace and peace!