I'm sitting in the lobby of terminal B. The security gate just opened...at 9 am.

Looking over at the monitors, there are fewer than 20 flights scheduled for the entire day. There is about one flight worth of folks lounging about...though I know between now and my flight in an hour and a half (I'm always early) there are only three flights scheduled. Watching the line there is about a 20 second wait to go through security.

It's been a whirlwind of a weekend.

I left Chicago on Friday morning, flew to Dallas, then onto New Orleans. Coming in over Kenner and the SW suburbs of the city, the number of "FEMA Blue Roofs" is startling, giving parts of the city the appearance of being dotted with blue plastic houses from some special edition of Monopoly. Lake Pontchetrain looks so docile and sparkly, who can imagine it's destructive power just weeks ago and its current highly toxic state?

My row companion on the flight from Dallas is a life-long resident of NO, in Metarie, where her home suffered only the damage caused by a loss of power for two and half weeks...including mold growing in the base of her cabinets from the food that oozed out of her refrigerator and seeped into the baseboards and under the cabinets.

We spoke the entire flight about her experiences...they seemed to flow from her, unheeded, particulary when she learned I am a pastor. Her aunt and uncle, in their 80s, own a home in St. Bernard Parish, that is now a total loss...but they are also members of my denomination. How might she get her aunt and uncle, who are now in a Metarie apartment, reconnected with their congregation when the church was destroyed. I gave her a few websites and google searches to try. She told me of her struggles with the insurance companies on some rental property that was severely damaged...of contractors who are late finishing, causing subsequent contractors to cancel because their schedules are so tight for at least the next two months.

She spoke too of friends who have wondered back to visit homes in St. Bernard and the 9th ward, only to come down with terrible...and I mean terrible, bacterial infections that put them in hospitals in Baton Rouge, Houston, and Birmingham.

She spoke of the "end of compassion" as employers and other 'powers and principalities' start requiring things like 15 hour work days to get offices back up and running from employees who are living in campers and showering at the Y. She spoke of the inescapable angst...the tension that simply doesn't go away unless you get away from the city...that she felt seeping back into her bones as our flight descended...

It was a powerful experience...and as I picked up my rental car at a Hertz office not yet fully repaired from the storm and headed west towards the wedding I would perform Saturday night in cajun country (Abbeville), I marvelled at the fact that up in Chicago, Katrina has slipped to the third or fourth page of the Tribune...but the tragedy is will be front and center here for months and months to come.

I also marvelled at the conversations I had over the weekend with my largely red state, largely conservative family...about how only Fox News had the "real story" about why people stayed behind in NO (professional looting, numerous other classist and racist suggestions)...about how everyone else in the press coddled the Mayor of NO and the Governor because they are an African-American.....and a woman....and Democrats.

My new cousin-in-law's family, who thankfully made it through both storms virtually unaffected, are hard shell Baptists who were a bit shocked to have their daughter being married by a man in a collar and a black robe...the sotto voce questions flew after the reception...is he...CATHOLIC?.....and then when a very rustic looking uncle of the bride came up to me and asked, "You are Episcopalian, right?" "No," I said, "Presbyterian." "Thank goodness," he replied, "those Episcopalians have gone crazy...It's those homosexuals..." I simply looked at him...and excused myself to get more punch.

It's been a profound weekend in many ways...
And I've never felt more like an expatriate than I do now...
Big Easy...heal in peace...Windy City, wait up, cuz I'm coming home.