June 1 is the official kick-off for the six-months-long-hurricane-season. Not that the calendar notices. But everyone in this part of the world starts getting antsy along about then. Similar, I expect, to the way our Kansas neighbors do everytime a storm brews in the west and they start thinking ‘tornado.’ What makes our situation especially poignant is that in no way will this city be ready for another hurricane in one month. We’re far less prepared than one year ago, and you know what happened then.

“Brother Joe, we have no electricity.” That was the phone call from Lynn in our associational office this morning first thing. I was stuck in interstate traffic and told her and Ninfa to sit tight until I arrived. The power company workers behind our buildings informed me that they were working on some stuff, that they had shut off our lines, and that we might not even have electricity Tuesday. I asked the secretaries to go home and call all our pastors to remind them of our Wednesday meetings at Oak Park Baptist Church (10 to noon each Wednesday for the next 3 months). Later, I locked the doors and drove out to check on some of our churches.

Lakeview Baptist Church in the flooded subdivision of that name is now meeting in their fellowship hall, says veteran leader of that church and now interim pastor, Dick Randels. When I caught him on the cell phone, he said, “I’m in Lowe’s buying tile for our fellowship hall.” On Easter Sunday, they had their biggest crowd yet. I think he said 39.

We have three Southern Baptist churches on Alvar Street in the Upper Ninth Ward located within a mile (or less) of each other: New Salem, Christian Bible Fellowship, and Grace Baptist Church. Warren Jones, pastor of the New Salem church has been on the site every time I have driven by. “That little building across the street that we want to buy, the one you and I thought we could get for perhaps $15,000. She wants $65,000 for it. I’ve gone ahead and signed the papers,” Warren said, “because we need that location.”

“We’ve been having church here,” he said. The sanctuary is lovely, nice light fixtures hanging down from the ceiling, a far cry from the last time I saw the church. They might have had 25 folding chairs sitting in the center, each with a white towel across the seat. A thoughtful provision, I would say, in a dusty city. “On Easter, we had them standing around the room,” Warren said.

Christian Bible Fellowship is pastored by Eddie Scott, and still has lots of cleaning out and rebuilding to do before being usable again. At Grace Baptist Church, associate pastor Charlie Dale brought me up to date on their progress. They’re running in the 40s for church. Volunteer groups have slowed to a trickle now. The renovation work in their buildings is almost complete, although there is plenty of house gutting out to be done in the neighborhood.

It would be tempting to say that the first two churches (New Salem and Christian Bible) are African-American and that Grace is Anglo. That might have been true at one time. No more. In fact, the first time I met Charlie Dale, he was Eddie Scott’s assistant pastor at Christian Bible. And Grace made the front of the New Orleans paper a couple of months ago for its multi-racial, all inclusive membership. Why those three churches are located so close together is probably for the same reason a lot of churches sit where they do: we’re Baptists; we don’t plan these things; that’s where the church was when we bought it. Something to that effect.

Pastor David Crosby of the FBC of New Orleans met a couple at church yesterday who observed to him that they were disappointed the city is not much different from when they were here in October. David admitted, “New Orleans remains a city on its knees.” Great areas of the city remain vacant and untended. On the other hand, anyone who drives in the city every day the way some of us do see signs of return everywhere. A store here, trailers everywhere, a store there, street lights all the way from the Interstate to the Lakefront on Elysian Fields. It’s happening, although at a snail’s pace.

David Crosby reports that teams working through their church have gutted out more than 460 flooded homes. They have requests from 550 homeowners for the same task to be done on their property. David says, “We have closed the list for now, but we want to get to these 550 families in a timely manner.”

Recently the New Orleans City Council voted unanimously that August 29 (Katrina’s first birthday) is the deadline for homes to be redone. Mayor Nagin and others cried that that’s not enough time. Councilmember Jay Batt, who sponsored the motion, now says all a homeowner needs do by August 29 is declare his intention to rebuild. That is not what the council’s action said at all, but it indicates the problem of leaders trying to act decisively without a proper consideration to all aspects of the situation.

David Crosby has issued an invitation for groups to come help rebuild the city. He says, “Contact us at 504 994 9208 and talk to Karen about your plans. You can register your group with her. If you get a recording, leave a detailed message.”

I drove by the campus of New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary today. The best news in a long time is that the Lifeway Christian Store opened at 10 o’clock for business, the first time since the storm. Former managers Walker Downs and William McGregor were on hand, along with the new manager Brantley–didn’t get his last name–and a team of new employees, including Stephanie Friend, wife of St. Bernard’s Hopeview Church’s Jeffrey Friend. I browsed for a half hour and must have talked to four or five of our pastors and several professors I’ve not seen in a year.

Pastor/Professor Ken Taylor who is dividing his time between north Alabama and here until his seminary campus home is liveable once more, was about to head north, but dropped by Lifeway. He’s applying for some of the Bush-Clinton-Katrina money, as are another dozen of our churches. Where his EFABC church once stood is now a plowed field, looking for all the world like it’s ready for someone to plant a crop.

In chats with several professors, in person, by phone, and through the internet, I’m learning of a problem many of their families are facing. They all–every last one of them–were affected by the hurricane and the flooding, and most lost their homes. When they relocated, one consequence was enrolling their children in new schools. Now, eight months later, the children are well ensconced in their new schools, comfortable with their new friends, and settled in their new home. “I do not want to move back to New Orleans,” some are saying. Others are saying exactly the opposite, that they cannot wait to get back. And some–God bless them–are divided, with some of the children wanting to return and some not.

Pray for the professors’ families. This is a real toughie and no one has any experience in dealing with this kind of problem.

From time to time here, I drop in notes on how people are dealing with the stress. We had a vivid illustration of one man handling his stress Sunday afternoon on national television.

Chris Couch was close to winning the Zurich Classic Golf Tournament, held on the shores of the Mississippi River downriver at a spot called English Turn, which location gave the famous golf course its name. Couch had been Mr. Smooth all day, looking like the jock that he is, wearing the coolest shades. However, on the final two holes, he got in big trouble and it appeared he might blow the lead. Suddenly, I noticed that the shades were gone and in his jaw he was carrying a considerable chaw of tobacco. Dealing with stress in his own way. It must have worked. He won in one of the most dramatic finishes anyone can ever remember.

I think I may have discovered the finest stress reliever of all time. What you do is drive over to the Delta Playground in Metairie and watch two nine-year-old girls’ softball teams go at it. It helps if you can arrange to have your twin granddaughters on one of the teams, and for none of the girls to ever have played competitive ball before. They’re still learning how to bat and where to throw the ball when they field it, how to run the bases. And Monday night, we found the final addition that makes the game the ultimate stress easer: arrange to have a large number of family members on hand in the bleachers to cheer for the girls and enjoy one another’s company. Our girls’ other grandparents, Ray and Betty Gatwood of Slidell, and next door neighbors Jay and Eileen Reynolds, were on hand to help us. The fellowship was grand. The kids were wonderful.

There’s nothing finer than a two-hour vacation. I recommend it heartily. For those two hours, at least, there’s no such thing as hurricane season and June 1 is just a date on the calendar.