In Saturday morning’s Times-Picayune, a tiny article comments on the way God was invoked in Thursday’s mayoral inauguration. Some of the participants picked up on the coincidence of that day, June 1, being also the start of hurricane season, and saw something other-worldly going on.

Governor Blanco, speaking at the early morning prayer service at St. Louis Cathedral, said one reason she decided to participate in the inauguration was “to beg the Lord our God to spare us from the ravages of this hurricane season.” Later, in his formal address, Mr. Nagin hinted that his victory over Lt. Gov. Mitch Landrieu might have been the work of God. “This is much bigger than all of us,” he said. “I’m not that smart. God has his hand in this.” He pointed heavenward and added, “Now, we were clever, but I’m not that smart.” No one asked Mr. Landrieu what he thought of that.

Marc Morial, the mayor just preceding Nagin, runs the National Urban League from his Manhattan offices and was interviewed this week on the same television network where his wife Michelle Miller works as a correspondent. He was asked about his uncle Glenn Haydel pleading guilty to bilking the local transit authority out of a half-million dollars. “I knew nothing,” he insisted. Which reminds me of the way Richard Nixon kept protesting in 1973 that he knew nothing about the Watergate breakin and the cover-up which followed. I remember thinking, “If he did know, he’s guilty of a crime. If he did not know, he’s guilty of malfeasance. Either way, he has betrayed the American people who voted for him.” Which I did, twice.

One of the finest museums anywhere is the National D-Day Museum just off St. Charles in downtown New Orleans, built, we are told, either on or near the original site of the offices of the Higgins Company which built the famous landing craft used throughout the war, and which made such a difference on June 6, 1944. Conceived by the wonderful Stephen Ambrose, this memorial to the “greatest generation” has grown and expanded to the point they changed its name. Friday, at a ceremony attended by various dignitaries, it became the National World War II Museum. Congress has voted it that designation, and the board is proceeding with a quarter of a billion dollars in extensions and additions. My annual dues as a charter member of this museum is one of the proudest checks I write each year.

Speaking of additions, David Crosby announces that the first of the “Baptist Crossroads” homes being erected in the Ninth Ward are about to go up this week. These forty homes, to be finished by early August, will transform the lives of that many families and go a long way toward encouraging the rebuilding of that blighted neighborhood. The project was conceived two years ago, and even prior to the storm, the board, working under the direction of the Habitat for Humanity staff, started buying vacant lots for these homes. We are grateful to Dr. Crosby for such an incredible vision, to Habitat for its key direction, for the Baptist Community Ministries foundation for underwriting the project, to Worldchangers for bringing in thousands of volunteers this summer, and to every person who is involved.

Burton Klein of Metairie writes to the editor that recently he saw a reprint of a San Francisco newspaper published one week after the 1906 earthquake. Two things caught his attention. First, plans for the rebuilding of the city were already agreed on. Second, the state legislature had already passed a law that fixed the price of building material at their level one day prior to the earthquake. Klein writes, “Nine months after Katrina, we find ourselves without a concrete plan for rebuilding, and…building material costs are more than 50 percent higher than they were.”

Luanna Seymour, in her letter to the editor, addresses the displaced residents of the St. Bernard Housing Project who vow to storm the gates of that development today. “Shame on them,” she says. She admits to living on $836 per month, her disability income, and paying $600 rent. “I don’t turn on my air-conditioning until 4 pm to save money. I flush my toilet two times a day and take a shower every three days to save water.” But the residents who are planning to tear down the gates of the project “are getting subsidized rent where they are. They should stay there. If they move back, they should pay rent like the rest of us.” She concludes, “Be thankful you have a roof over your head where you are and are paying only $225 per month and stop with all the threats. Subsidized housing is a gift, not a right.”

It’s all a matter of perspective, I suppose.

At last Wednesday’s pastors seminar, Bob Vickers said, “If you own your car and are buying a house, you are wealthier than 96% of the world’s population.”

“We don’t want for a thing,” my 94-year-old father said last weekend. I teased my mom, about to turn 90 next month, that they are rich. She looked around at the humble farmhouse which has been their home since we built it in 1954 and laughed at the very idea. I said, “Consider this. One of your sons manages your bank account and writes the checks for your bills. One of your daughters comes in every day and cooks a big meal. The other daughter buys groceries and anything you need and brings it in. You never see a bill, you never have to write a check, you have no money worries.” She said, “Maybe you’re right.” I read somewhere that one way to tell you are rich is if you can go to the grocery store and buy whatever you need without the first thought to whether there’s enough money in the bank account to cover your check.

Thanks to the United Mine Workers, my folks have health insurance which the rest of the world envies. When they buy medicines, their co-pay is often ten cents. To my knowledge, they never see a doctor bill. They have two or three different home health nurses of one type or another who come by regularly to check on them. Mom says all three showed up at the same time the other day. I’m 365 miles south of them, so I’m never there at those times, but I am so glad my parents have this.

There’s something else: the reason my folks have everything they need is that they have simplified their needs. They own no cell phone and no automobile. They never eat out, and the clothes in Pop’s closet would fill up only one corner of mine. No computer bills, no dry cleaning, no entertainment budget. Well, unless you consider the monthly bill for Direct TV so Pop can watch baseball every day throughout the summer. It goes without saying they have no credit cards and no high interest rates.

Friday morning, driving to the office, I heard a report on NPR about the large numbers of adult single children still living with their parents. They gave a couple of examples. One young man, making $30,000 a year, and his sister who makes $40,000, still occupy the same bedrooms they grew up in. “I can’t afford to live on my own,” each said. Then they turned right around and told how they have massive credit card debts, and eat out a lot, go to the bars, and such. The poor parents, in their late 50s, admitted to having retirement savings of only $40,000, but said, “We’re sacrificing our retirement to enable our children to have it better than we did. Isn’t that what everyone wants?”

I’m a father of three grown children, each with young’uns of their own, and know how hard life can be for them. I called out to the radio, “If you love your children, do them a favor and kick them out of the nest.”

It’s how God wants it. I guarantee.

Friday while pushing a granddaughter on the swing, I told her I’ll be preaching Sunday night at a French-speaking church. “Cool,” she said, “can you speak French?” I explained there will be a translator present. “And,” I said, “Sunday morning, I’m preaching at an African-American church.” She thought for a second and said, “Can you speak African?”

No. But fortunately, they speak American. If not, I’m in lots of trouble!