X's still on the fronts of houses from when they were searched after Katrina.
The hundreds of lots that used to be filled with houses, but now stand empty , over grown by weeds.
The tears running down Harold Bailey's face when he thanked us for volunteering.
The brown water rolling towards the drain as the shower washed away the dirt and sawdust from the worksite.
The bright orange on the throat of the little green lizards.
The scrape of the trowel against the concrete board, as is pulls the mortar across the floor.
The slap of Levi's back hitting the top of the pool water.
The pounding of hammers against the Sheetrock as we were doing demo.
"Rebuilding NOLA has only been possible because of all the volunteers."
The 22 songs on our Popcorn Panda mixtape CD over, and over, and OVER again.
The harmonies of "it is well" bouncing off the ceilings in the main room during worship time.
"Shut up and pass the cheese!" -PJ
"One plus one equals Jesus"
"Oh! You're a hot little boy!" -Koriel
The chicken poop from the next door neighbor permiating the humid air.
Burning plastic electrical chord melted from the rented belt sander.
Lavender body wash in the boys bathroom.
Sweaty, dirty teenagers.
Insence and bath salts in the French Market.
The warm, powder sugar beignets at Cafe du Monde.
The pepper speckled through the gravy on my biscuits at breakfast.
The spice of the sausage in the gumbo we ate at Cliff and Rachel's house.
Voodoo flavored potato chips.
The sweet crumbles of Miss Kim's peach cobbler.
The burning on our lips after eating the corn on the cob from the shrimp boil.
Chunks of tile hitting my skin, and water spraying my face as I used the tile saw.
The bumps on a bearded dragon's dry skin.
The sting of sweat in our eyes as it dripped down our faces.
The humidity so thick you could cut it with a knife.
The wrench on our heart when walking through Miss Kim's home, knowing we need to do something about it. Feeling God's leading to act, to serve, to love.