Written by Nick Bloom, a participant in the fourth annual Freedom Summer: A Civil Rights Journey.

It was about a year ago that I first learned about Freedom Summer: A Civil Rights Journey, a JustWorks camp of the Unitarian Universalist Service Committee. I read the description of the program after my parents first mentioned it to me, and I was intrigued. As a participant, I would have the opportunity to go visit all the sights of the civil rights movement of the 1950s and 60s, and work in one of the local communities that we would be visiting.

This sounded great to me, as I had never had a chance to really visit the South in any capacity other than Florida, and I thought it would be good to familiarize myself with this part of my country, and get to see the historic and exciting landmarks of the civil rights movement. I jumped on the opportunity. I had absolutely no idea of what I was getting into.

My dad, my friend Ari Brouwer, and I embarked for Atlanta the Friday before the Civil Rights Journey began, and arrived Saturday. I was ready to see the sights that, for some unbelievably naïve reason, I thought I had a good understanding of. After spending the next day at Ebenezer Baptist Church and the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Center, the concept of understanding was blown thoroughly out of my mind.

I don’t believe that I had ever felt as humble as I did walking in the shadows of these civil rights giants, and learning of the thousands of individuals who played such a pivotal role in the movement, especially the children. Also, I met Dr. King's sister, which was almost surreal.

Throughout the trip, I continued to read and hear about more and more people who had contributed to the movement, including Nelson Malden, the barber of Dr. King. His stories of the Montgomery bus boycott and his firsthand experiences with Dr. King were amazing to hear. In fact, from the mayor of Selma, James Perkins, to Sam Walker at the Voting Rights Museum in Selma, to Greg Atchinson of Montgomery, every story opened a wealth of new knowledge to me that my school curriculum seemed to left out.

Although the whole trip was amazing, the one experience that stood out to me the most were our nightly meetings with Kimberly Richards of the People's Institute for Survival and Beyond. When I first heard about these meetings, I figured they were sort of something we would endure at night in order to get to the next day of sight seeing. This may have been the worst judgment I made all trip. Miss Richards showed us all ideas of race and racism in this country that I had never touched. She showed us the system of racism in this country, one that I had really thought was over.

No one had ever explained to me before that our nation was founded on the ideology of race in order to sustain the power of Europeans. She explained the racial tensions we all feel, and it was truly enlightening. For me, who had always thought that of course I was not a racist, racism just comes from ignorant people and the KKK, I realized how wrong I really was.

If you get the opportunity to go on this journey, do it. You will come back with tools to attempt to achieve racial equity in your own communities, and knowledge you may have not known was out there. It truly was a "Civil Rights Journey."

Written by John Bloom, a participant in the fourth annual Freedom Summer: A Civil Rights Journey.

This was such a transformative week, seeing civil rights history come alive. To me, the day that stands out the most was our day in Selma, although it was typical of encounters that we had throughout the week. There, Sam Walker of the National Voting Rights Museum gave us a run-down of the events that led to the Selma-to-Montgomery march for voting rights in Alabama, an event that was one of the greatest triumphs of the civil rights movement, and which helped to spark movements throughout the nation.

The stories we heard were local ones: middle school kids running out of school early to join in protests in front of the Dallas County Courthouse; driving by the auto dealership of the man who was the primary suspect in the killing of Rev. James Reeb after Bloody Sunday (the dealership is still owned by the suspect and in business today); local women who worked tirelessly to pay poll taxes and train African Americans how to pass the voting literacy tests; personal memories of Bloody Sunday when state police beat nonviolent protesters after they crossed the Edmund Pettis Bridge; and of setting up camps along the route for the march to Montgomery.

Throughout the week we met ordinary people, like Nelson Malden of Montgomery, who cut Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s hair, and who not only recalled conversations with him, but shared his memories of the relationship of Dr. King to the Montgomery community. We watched the Spike Lee documentary, "Four Little Girls," in the presence of Chris McNair, father of Denise McNair who was killed at the age of 11 when a white supremacist ignited a bomb on September 15, 1963 in the 16th Street Baptist Church.

We experienced all of this with a group of honest, sincere, good humored people -- some Black; some white; some late into their middle age years; some in their early teens. It was an honor to spend a week with each and every one of them. What I'll take away the most is that the civil rights movement was certainly one of charismatic and brave leaders, but also of ordinary people who can inspire all of us today to take a stand against the injustices that have resurfaced with such force.

A couple of thoughts:

• At least three people who we spoke with said that they had never seen the United States more polarized either internally -- or around the world -- than ever before. These were people who had seen "Bull" Connor drive around Birmingham inside of a white tank terrorizing the African American population.
• On the last day, we all participated in service projects in Birmingham. Mine was at a social service organization serving adults obtaining a GED. We were in charge of cleaning out and reorgaizing a storage shed behind the center. The center looked to be a place that did amazing work with very few resources -- much like other similar organizations I have seen in Pennsylvania. All around the center were photocopied pictures and posters of images that we had seen all week: protesters being fire-hosed, photos of the girls killed at 16th Street Baptist Church, etc. It was a reminder of how important and alive the moment in history that we learned about this week is to the people in communities all over the South, and especially in Alabama.

Written by Nancy Nienhuis, a participant in the fourth annual Civil Rights Journey.

Imagine walking into your polling station and before someone hands you the ballot, they tell you you have to answer a couple of questions. "Okay," you say. And then they ask you, "How many bubbles in a bar of soap?" and "How many feathers on a chicken?" You can't answer, so they tell you that you can't vote.

Those questions were actually on the test they used to give blacks in the south in order to remove them from the voting lists. Whites didn't have to pass the tests. This is just one of the many things I learned this week during the Civil Rights Journey.

These days have been packed with information -- did you know that during the Montgomery Bus Boycott many bus drivers were laid off and became police officers?!? We've walked where Dr. King walked, we've talked to people who knew him. We've even heard from Mr. Nelson, the man who used to cut his hair.

On this trip, history not only comes alive, it talks to you. I'll never think about civil rights in the same way. Some things we've encountered made us shake our heads with wonder at how inhumanely people can treat each other -- Birmingham police turning dogs on children, for example. And other things give us hope. The heroes of the movement aren't the ones who made the changes we know now. The changes were made by everyday people, by people like me and people like you who, when the time came, chose to do something instead of walk away.

More than anything else, this trip and the history I've been introduced to in such a personal way remind me that I keep the fight alive and keep us all moving forward when I choose in every small moment of a regular day to do the right thing. No matter how tired, I must do this. If 500 people can March from Selma to Montgomery under threat of death, I can do this.

Joseph Santos-Lyons, the UUA Director of Campus Ministry and Field Organizing, recently took part in a UUSC fact-finding trip to Ecuador.

UUSC is supporting a legal and organizing project around the human right to water. One of the manifestations of the violation of this human right is the contamination of the public water system in poor and people of color communities. Guayaquil, Ecuador, had one such incident that affected eight public schools.

More than 150 children were diagnosed with Hepatitis A over the period of several months from a number of schools. The outbreak was caught early on by school doctors, and information was shared with the authorities and the water company (Bechtel), yet no action was taken and the schools were blamed for poor sanitary conditions.

Mi Cometa, a community group and UUSC program partner, and their public watch partner the Public Observatory Network, kept organizing from the first outbreak in 2005 into today. The debate has been very public, mentioned in the papers, radio, and television. The effects of the outbreak are still being dealt with: children are reporting chronic physical and mental health effects. This trauma, and the lack of a meaningful immediate government response, is fueling more social action around the human right to water.

We visited one of the schools with the largest outbreak, and met both children and their parents. Mi Cometa invited the children to draw pictures of their experience with Hep A, and parents talked about what political action they could take. The energy was really high!

Joseph Santos-Lyons, the UUA director of campus ministry and field organizing, recently took part in a UUSC fact-finding trip to Ecuador.

Who speaks for you when you're down? Who helps you see the depth and the connection of problems where you live? Who do you trust to tell you the truth?

I've always been an organizer who works primarily from communities of which I am a part: age groups from youth to now mid 30-somethings, identity groups such as mixed-race children and families, and affinity groups like my baseball card collecting friends. The passion and the dedication that comes from organizing in one's own context has been a lifeblood for me.

I've spent two full days now with leaders from Mi Cometa, the Guayaquil, Ecuador community organization that organizes for the welfare of an impoverished neighborhood. I'm learning a lot about their mission and programs, and meeting some of their staff. Many of them started with Mi Cometa over 15 years ago as children in their various educational and empowerment programs. Their current general secretary was one of these young people, and that to me is truly amazing.

The ownership, the power of voice and of right relationship, and the accountability is remarkably different with leaders who come from the community. These have been principles I've been trying to live more fully in my life, often with a lot of difficulty. Still, there are ways for people like me, I believe, and sometimes it just starts with a commitment to place.

Joseph Santos-Lyons, the UUA director of campus ministry and field organizing, recently took part in a UUSC fact-finding trip to Ecuador.

Who speaks for you when you're down? Who helps you see the depth and the connection of problems where you live? Who do you trust to tell you the truth?

I've always been an organizer who works primarily from communities of which I am a part: age groups from youth to now mid 30-somethings, identity groups such as mixed-race children and families, and affinity groups like my baseball card collecting friends. The passion and the dedication that comes from organizing in one's own context has been a lifeblood for me.

I've spent two full days now with leaders from Mi Cometa, the Guayaquil, Ecuador community organization that organizes for the welfare of an impoverished neighborhood. I'm learning a lot about their mission and programs, and meeting some of their staff. Many of them started with Mi Cometa over 15 years ago as children in their various educational and empowerment programs. Their current general secretary was one of these young people, and that to me is truly amazing.

The ownership, the power of voice and of right relationship, and the accountability is remarkably different with leaders who come from the community. These have been principles I've been trying to live more fully in my life, often with a lot of difficulty. Still, there are ways for people like me, I believe, and sometimes it just starts with a commitment to place.

Reid Robinson participated in the JustWorks Katrina Relief Camp in New Orleans.

I just got back from New Orleans. I was there on a UUSC JustWorks camp with my local youth group. The trip was amazing. I cannot speak for anyone else from my group, but I know that the trip for me was one of the most spiritually awakening experiences I have ever had.

I had previously gone down about one month ago with the YRUU youth social justice training. However, it was different this time because we truly got to see the two faces of New Orleans.

I guess it is kind of ironic that the city of masquerades, of putting masks over your true face to have a good time, is truly a masquerade. New Orleans has two very different faces. At one extreme, you have the well-off party district of the French Quarter and right across the river, you have the Katrina-battered and government-ignored Ninth Ward.

This type of difference we would expect to see in some developing country. But no, this isn't a developing country (depending on your definition of developing). This is the United States of America.

Nothing I could have done, seen, or read could have prepared me for the sights that I saw. Houses completely gone, cars on top of houses, houses leaning into other houses, personal belongings completely destroyed, and the other side of New Orleans looking as it did the Mardi Gras prior to Katrina: perfect.

The most emotional experience I ever had was the second day of work when we were gutting a house. Papers were still laid out on the bed waiting to be read. Videotapes were still on the dresser waiting to be watched. Family portraits were still on the wall waiting to be admired. Bowls were still in the sink waiting to be washed. I started thinking about my own house, imagining 15 to 20 feet of water entering it, and then wondering what would people find there if a flood came today.

We were instructed to throw everything away. I had found someone's Social Security card, life insurance policy, report cards, deeds to the house, and birth certificates. It hurt to watch myself throw away papers that my mom holds in a special location in a special box. Then someone had to throw away a family portrait and was reluctant to do so until a guy came and asked, "Can I see that?" It was the son who had grown up in the house. He was happy we were gutting his house and we gave him the family portrait and personal papers. He said, "If I had known you all were coming I would have barbequed something."

However, it wasn't until we started gutting the bedroom that my heart sank. We found the skeletal remains of a dog. I couldn't bear to throw away this person's dog. I thought that if someone found my dog in my house, I would want them to bury him properly. Luckily, we got in contact with the owner in Baton Rouge, she wanted us to bury the dog. We buried the bones that we could find and were just silent for a couple seconds. To me, digging that hole was one of the most important things I did all week.

I am kind of sad I never got to see New Orleans prior to Katrina. Perhaps I will come down to celebrate the city of New Orleans, perhaps it will be me who is behind a mask participating in the grand masquerade. The things I saw, I will never forget. The words of people I met will never leave my head. The sights I saw will always be burned into my mind. The emotions I felt will never leave my heart. Most importantly, the motivation I gained will never die off.