I’ll Never Pray That Prayer Again!

Reflections on Hurricanes Katrina and Rita at the 20 year anniversary…

Twenty years ago, I had just finished seminary. And to my surprise, I felt a tug back to Louisiana.

I always assumed I’d leave the state and not return. But there was this strange and holy pull to come home. I moved back to Lafayette about four weeks before Hurricane Katrina hit the New Orleans area (about 2.5 hours southwest of Lafayette), and then, just a few weeks later, Rita came along and devastated the area just south of Lafayette. And Lafayette became a hub for evacuees, both those fleeing ahead of the storms and those seeking refuge in their wake.

Before the storms, I wasn’t sure what I’d do for work. I had moved home but didn’t have a clear sense of direction. I kept thinking “OK, now what?!?” and I remember praying, “God, please don’t speak in still small whispers. I’m going to need big booming thunder so that I can hear your clearly…”

Well.

The next day, Katrina formed.

Then Rita came along.

And I found my direction.

But I promise I’ll never pray that prayer again! Still small whispers are fine, God! I’ll just listen harder!

When the devastation came, I wasn’t working, so I started volunteering right away. I alternated between the Cajundome (people) shelter, the animal shelter at Blackham Coliseum, and answering phones for the 232-HELP / 211 information and referral helpline. The needs were overwhelming: people trapped on roofs, families needing clean water, volunteers trying to make sense of chaos. I spent full days in the shelters or call center, then updated info sheets overnight for the morning shift. I often slept in 2-5 hour segments, caught my breath, and kept going.

And I wasn’t the only one. The entire Acadiana region was activated. Everyone was pitching in, one way or another.

I watched as neighbors brought extra clothes and food, offered their furniture and bedding, and some even opened their homes to complete strangers. Folks from out of state called with offers of financial support. People with trucks started delivering donations. Strangers became family.

What we thought would be temporary turned into something more long-term. And so, we started CUPS (Communities Uniting in Prayer and Service). First it was just a church hallway full of extra sheets and blankets. Then it was an old Sunday school room filled with furniture. Then we found a building. A warehouse. A new rhythm of life. We matched donations with needs. We organized pickups. We drove truckloads of generosity. And we kept going - not just for the hurricane response, but for every need that came after it.

That time shaped me.

It sharpened my theology of abundance: There is always enough. But it is our sacred calling to help ensure that God’s abundance is shared equitably.

This was some of the most meaningful work of my life. It wasn’t easy. But it was real. Raw. Sacred. It was community in motion. Truck-loads of grace. Love that didn’t just feel, it acted.

To everyone who lived through that season, and to everyone still carrying its weight, I remember. I honor you. And I give thanks.

But what now? Its been 20 years….

CUPS eventually closed: The warehouse emptied, the volunteers went home. But the need in our community is still there.

Most people moved on - because they had to. Because life demands it. Because disaster seasons always turn into new ones. But the work of healing, of equity, of community? The work of abundance? That still calls to us.

The storms may have passed, but the breaches remain: There is a breach between those who have enough and those who go without. There is a breach between systems designed to protect and those too often left exposed. There is a breach between neighbors, between communities, between what is and what could be.

And so, the call remains: To be “repairers of the breach” (Is. 58:12). To redistribute abundance with courage. To build relationships across divides. To speak truth. To show up. To live like community matters, because it does!

I no longer run a warehouse. But I still carry that same call. And I’m trying to listen hard to hear the direction God is sending me today. And maybe you are too.

I don’t think we are necessarily called to respond in the same way we did then. To respond today will require new tools, new approaches, new connections. But we will still need the same deep love and conviction that brought us to our knees and back to our feet twenty years ago.

So here we are: Still listening for God. Still sorting out what it means to be faithful. Still building and rebuilding community, one act of love at a time.

Today I remember: There is always enough. But we have work to do to make sure that everyone has enough.

Let’s keep listening for God’s still small whispers…. and let’s keep going….