Email: Andy Greenhow

Friends,

This month, I finally managed to establish a routine. We had volunteers for all four weeks, and I was fortunate enough to be doing different things each week, so I could learn alongside them. The volunteers keep us going, and they are a continual encouragement. I discovered this month that I have one of the only jobs in the world where I can’t wait for Monday. Monday brings hope for the future. There is a new batch of people, eager to help and learn, embarking on a new experience if only for a week. They inspire me because they’re taking time off their jobs or they’re making a considerable sacrifice to come work with us. I’m proud of coming down here but I had no responsibilities when I did. The commitment of these volunteers is staggering.

And then there’s Friday. Friday means goodbye. It means an uncertain future. It’s the whole, “We totally have to keep in touch after summer camp is over!” thing all over again. But unlike camp, I really believe that the volunteers are having life-changing experiences during the week. But it’s so easy to get back into the routine of home, of work, of kids, of anything. Will they tell their friends? Will they come back? Will they do what they can for the coast where they are? Can they even do anything? I’m very glad for the chance to rest, of course, but it only occurred to me recently that this is why weekends are so hard. But as sure as the world turns, Monday arrives, I get a new group and the cycle begins anew, spinning closer and closer to the goal of rebuilding this city.

One special highlight of the month was our charity booth at the Voodoo Music Experience (colloquially, “Voodoo Fest”). We bought a tent at this huge music festival and collected donations, signed up volunteers, and aimed to spread the word on what Project Homecoming is. It was a success for Project Homecoming, but for me, it was a moving experience. I think all the time about Ezekiel traveling through the valley of dry bones, wondering if they would ever live. All week, we work on houses, the bones of the city, and think little of the soul. This weekend at Voodoo Fest, I saw just how healthy the soul of the city really is. The organizers of the festival gave plenty of time to local acts (as well as big name bands) and they were met with rapturous audiences, dancing, clapping, and jumping. Music here really does represent the soul of the city, and the musicians are back with more inspiration than ever before. Like Ezekiel said, only God knows if the dry bones will live, but the weekend at Voodoo showed me that the soul is ready and waiting for its bones.

And they’re in good hands with the volunteers that come down every (Thank God it’s) Monday.