What a summer. At the end of nearly every week in my journal I have written, “what a week.” They have all been full of laughter, sadness, joy, happiness, etc. I have never experienced anything like this. The community, the love, the music, the jokes, the sarcasm, the hugs…all of it has filled me with a sense of God’s immense love for us. Each and every one of us.

One thing I will take away from this experience is that we are all human, and we are all broken. I have eaten lunch with all sorts of people. Men who have just gotten out of jail, tough women who don’t want to talk to me, 3 year old Dalice who is the cutest little thing, kids who have seen their best friend shot and killed, and high schoolers from across the country. We all have a story, and I have been learning the importance of listening to those stories!During this last week, we have gone about our daily routine. We washed dishes, finished up summer camp, cooked enchiladas, walked around the French Quarter. We also helped a man get to rehab. On Monday,a man came by looking for Tom and for a clean t-shirt. He was so sweaty that he’d been wiping his face with a paper towel, would shake it out, and wipe more sweat from his face. We got him a dry and clean t-shirt and told him Tom would be back later. This man came back a few times and finally I called Tom. This man had been trying to get into a rehab program for awhile and the decision was to arrive that day. I got to tell him that he was accepted and that he could leave, get out of New Orleans and try for a different life. He cried, and he gave me a hug. It was definitely the most sweaty hug I have ever received, but also one of the most powerful. He had been on the streets for awhile, drinking, sleeping, and smoking under the wharf. Now he is in rehab and I pray that God changes this man’s life.Moments like this happened all summer and I got to see real Christian community as we all lived life together. The 7 of us who lived above the sanctuary in what was affectionately referred to as the Baptist hippie commune. The homeless who used the church as a mailing address. Bands who passed through. The kids at summer camp who all called each other cousins. The mission teams who each spent a week in New Orleans. I have seen  different kinds of brokenness and different kinds of love and I am grateful to call all of those people part of my family in the Lord. I couldn’t have asked for a better summer or better people to spend it with.Thank you to everyone who made this summer what it was. I thank God for bringing me to NOLA and while I am terribly sad to leave, I am excited for what God continues to do in all of our lives.