Have you ever suffered from sensory overload? You are talking to so many people, both cell phones are ringing, someone else needs your attention–and pretty soon you do not remember what you said to anyone. “Did you get my call?” someone asked. “I suppose,” you answer. Anyway, this is where I am today.

After a day of meetings in Baton Rouge on Tuesday to discuss what to do once we’re all able to re-enter metro New Orleans, I spent the night with a cousin, then left town early Wednesday morning, bound for my community in Jefferson Parish. The authorities were allowing residents four days this week to get in to check out their homes and pick up any necessities. Son Neil and his wife Julie did it Monday; Wednesday was my day.

The 70 mile drive from Baton Rouge took four hours. My wife had sent along a list of things to bring and a flashlight so I could see inside the closets. Only a wife would have thought of the light; it had never entered my mind. Our neighborhood looked rough. All the trees were not down, but all were damaged. The streets had been cleared of downed trees, so somebody has been working. Shingles from the rooftop littered my yard. If it rains before we can return, I’m in a lot of trouble. And no, I decided not to empty the scary refrigerator or freezer. What’s the point; they’re ruined anyway. By the time we return, the electricity will be on and the spoiled things will be refrozen, making it safe to remove them before discarding the appliances.

I spent an hour driving around our part of town. Here’s a quick synopsis.

Riverside Baptist Church looked great. First Baptist LaPlace and Woodland are up and running, with hardly a pause. Men were working at First Baptist Destrehan, but it looked fine. First Baptist Kenner had trees down all over and the youth center appears to be a total loss. Since House of Prayer Spanish mission meets there, they’ll have to find another site. Bright Star was fine. Dixieland Trailer Park mission–well, you know about trailer parks in hurricanes, I expect. Most of the trailers looked okay, although deserted, and the doublewide in the rear which functions as both a chapel and residence for Mitch and Traci Mares had a tree across the rear which you can see from inside. Traci was retrieving clothes and they were headed to Georgia. Pastor Scott Smith says Highland in Metairie is having services Sunday. Williams Boulevard Church is open for business; in fact, the highway patrol across the street is using the gym for their base of operations. Someone said Memorial Church in Metairie has lost its roof, and I heard that Crescent City had lots of water damage.

Today, I heard from Pastor Frank Ducharme at the church in Buras, that their sanctuary had 12 feet of water, they lost some buildings, and the parsonage has disappeared. That’s some 60 miles down the Mississippi River in Plaquemines Parish. Also, the church at Port Sulphur is said to have major damage.

If we were allowed to return home tomorrow, the first order of business for our office is to find out which churches still exist. Many have been washed out of existence and their members scattered so severely that the church will never be reassembled. At least, not on earth.

I heard a lady in a shelter being interviewed on All Things Considered. “I’m here with my four children,” she said, “and we feel just fine. This is nice.” The reporter said, “Wait a minute. You just lost your home and everything you had, and you said this is fine. How can you say that?” “Because,” the mother said, “we had lots of problems back in New Orleans. People were selling drugs in our neighborhood, it was a scary place to bring up children, and now all our problems have just disappeared.”

That lady’s perspective reminds us of the good that can come from this storm. Everyone has walked outside after a summer storm and noted how clean and fresh the air seemed. To be sure, there has been an incredibly tragic side to Katrina and in no way am I diminishing that. But families who had lost all hope have been handed a miraculous opportunity to go somewhere else and start all over.

My friend Jim Graham works for Havertys Furniture in Asheville, NC, and always brings a fresh perspective to every discussion. This morning he sent me the following note:

“Yesterday I spoke with a dear cousin who lives in Long Beach, Mississippi. Incredibly, they lived through Camille and in spite of that experience, decided to ‘sit this one out.’ Obviously we have been apprehensive about her. What a relief to hear her voice and to know she was okay.

“What she told me brought tears of joy to my eyes. She said, ‘Jim, Christian groups are all over this area and from places as far as Michigan. They are feeding, clothing, and ministering to people in every conceivable way.’

“For the God-deniers, this black, dark, ugly, mean storm has no bright side. But for those living in the ‘light,’ God is and will be showing up in so many ways bringing hope and thankfulness to the lives of many, many people. A black man from New Orleans said that he had lived his whole life as a racist. Convinced that white folks were all evil. He has been shown so much love and care since the storm that he says his life has been permanently changed for the better.

“At the end of our emotional conversation, my cousin said, ‘Jimmy, all I can say is that our hearts are filled with thanks. Biloxi, Gulfport, Waveland, and most of Long Beach are simply gone. But our hope is not in “stuff.”‘ She added, ‘We will not ever “sit” one out again.'”

I had a phone call from a religion writer for the Associated Press this morning. He’s doing a story on all the funerals–perhaps thousands of them–some are predicting will have to be conducted once we get back home. How does a minister deal with that, he wanted to know. I said to him, “In two contradictory ways. On one hand, our heart is breaking with sorrow over what has happened. On the other hand, God has called us to be here where we can really make a difference in people’s lives, and frankly, we’d rather be here than any other place on earth.”

That’s also our story about Katrina. Plenty of tears ahead. But we remember a line from Hebrews 12. “Who for the joy set before Him, Jesus endured the cross, despising the shame.” We will get through the tears and find the joy just on the other side.

(the second installment of this log will follow shortly, giving the gist of Tuesday’s meetings with various leaders in Baton Rouge.)