Read the inspired blogs by youth volunteers from the recent JustWorks camp in New Orleans.

I remember vividly the moment when I learned of the massive destruction in New Orleans caused by the levees breaking after Hurricane Katrina. I was living in New York City, attending graduate school. I had heard murmurings of a hurricane bearing down on New Orleans, but mostly dismissed the claims of impending doom, thinking to myself, it's just another weather forecaster inflating a storm to increase television ratings. Of course there is a hurricane coming — it's hurricane season.

The next day I saw photos of the destruction.

This moment has always stuck with me. I have often wondered how I could have gone about my business, not knowing. It was baffling to me that a humanitarian disaster of this magnitude could be happening in my own country without me knowing about it instinctually. I thought that somehow I should just feel it; a message should have come from the very earth that I stood on. This experience taught me a real lesson: one has to be told in order to know and one needs to see to be compelled to act.

Over the last two years, I have had the privilege of doing advocacy work to ensure a just rebuilding of the Gulf Coast. Although I've been educated about the hurricane and its aftermath and helped to educate others (talking to partners, working in coalitions, seeing countless documentaries, and advocating on behalf of those affected by the storm), nothing could have prepared me for stepping foot on the soil of New Orleans four weeks ago, almost four years after Hurricane Katrina made landfall.

We arrived in New Orleans on July 17 for a Katrina JustWorks Camp. In preparation for the arrival of 15 participants, a colleague, Kate Wallace, and I began exploring the city. We drove into the Lower Ninth Ward, where we would be drywalling a house and clearing a lot in the days to come.

Much of the debris has been cleared since the storm, and some homes are being rebuilt, but the vision of empty lot after empty lot and houses still left uninhabitable made me speechless. No movie or picture can offer the story; I had to see it for myself.

As we drove through streets lined with overgrown lots, we came upon a house with its front door open. I stepped out of the car and onto the porch. I looked inside and saw the rafters of the roof. There was a ceiling fan that hung down from what is now a missing ceiling. As I stood there in the 90 degree heat and 88 percent humidity I thought of the family that used to find refuge from the heat under the fan. I wondered where they were now, if they were still together, if they wanted to come home. Mostly, I hoped they had survived.

The week we spent in New Orleans was one of the most challenging and powerful experiences of my life. Our camp spent its time learning about what happened after Hurricane Katrina, rebuilding efforts, and residents' struggle for justice. We shared sweat, stories, outrage, and hope. Some of us became masters of "mudding" (or plastering drywall), and we cared for dogs and cats displaced by the hurricane, including a dog, Katrina, which had been on the streets since the levees broke until a week before our arrival. We visited and worked in Phoenix, La., in Plaquemine's Parish, where Hurricane Katrina had made landfall.

If there is one bit of information that I would like to impart to you, reader, it is that the humanitarian crisis in New Orleans is a manmade disaster. The destruction was caused by the breaking of the levees, which spilled 22 feet of water into areas of the Lower Ninth Ward and 10-12 feet of water in many other parts of the city.

The humanitarian crisis at the Superdome was manmade. The death of people in their homes and on their roofs was manmade. FEMA’s deplorable reaction to the needs of those in New Orleans was manmade. The roadblocks to the Road Home money were manmade. The inaction of our public officials to make good policy to help those affected by Hurricane Katrina and the breaking of the levees is manmade. The fact that, four years on, countless thousands of residents are still displaced is a manmade disaster.

Watch a trailer from our upcoming video on the work UUSC and the UUA undertook in the Gulf Coast.

When we begin to understand this crisis as manmade, we begin to understand that we all have a part to play in bringing about justice for those affected by Hurricane Katrina and the breaking of the levees. Understanding that this crisis is manmade will help us to see the injustice, to how to right the wrongs, and be part of the solution.

All who participated in the Katrina JustWorks Camp were new to New Orleans, except for one. And although we went to help rebuild, we were also "rebuilt" as individuals and as a group. We were given the gifts of kindness, knowledge, and community from all those whom we met. We were invited into the lives of powerful people, whose strength of spirit in the face of such adversity was inspirational beyond words. They helped us to see the effects of Hurricane Katrina and the breaking of the levees from a personal and community perspective, and they gave us the tools to act in solidarity with the people of New Orleans.

I want to thank all of those who helped us through this journey.

Thank you, Quo Vadis, for all of your work to make the Center for Ethical Living and Social Justice Renewal a thriving institution for learning about the Gulf Coast and a "home away from home" for volunteers.

Thank you, Cory and Christie, for all your work to help coordinate our worksites and the warmth you showed us. We appreciate all that you did to make this trip possible.

Thank you, Julie, for teaching us how to "mud" with such patience and sharing your story with us.

Thank you, Jyaphia, for being our Diva Chef and a support to our group.

Thank you, Dr. Kimberley Richards, for facilitating the New Orleans Now: Race, Class and Rebuilding workshop. This experience gave our group the foundation that we needed to understand our work within the framework of social justice.

Thank you, Mary Fontenot, for taking us on a tour of your community and sharing with us the tribulations and triumphs of your neighborhood. The work you have done is such an inspiration, and we were so privileged to be able to share that afternoon with you.

Thank you, Rev. Tyronne Edwards, for inviting us into your community and sharing with us the unique experience of Phoenix, La., after the storm. Your leadership and focus on the empowerment of others, including the youth of your community, is a skill I aspire to have. Thank you, Mrs. Edwards, for your hospitality and DELICIOUS fried catfish!

Thank you to all the members of the Zion Travelers Cooperative Center who invited us into the community!

Thank you to all those who we met in New Orleans and who shared their stories with us. I thank you for your honesty and openness, and above all, I thank you for sharing your resilience and love of your community with us.

Thank you to all the participants who gave their all during this trip. Thank you for all your hard work, blood, sweat, tears, and blogs!

Thank you to all who have volunteered and donated to the UUA-UUSC Gulf Coast Relief Fund.

Thank you to all who will continue to stand in solidarity with the people of New Orleans.

The following blog post was written by Sarah Campbell, of UU Church of North Hills, Pittsburgh, Penn., while participating in a Katrina JustWorks Camp, in New Orleans. She is 16 years old.

The following song, "No Houses, Just Stairs," was written and performed by Conner Williams, of Michigan, while participating in a JustWorks Camp in New Orleans. He is 17 years old.


Song Lyrics:

Walls break, water pours in
Devastating the heart that's within
It's a ghost town, with no one around
Except a few brave souls, who fill a few holes

Most have given up hope,
But they're still trying to cope with the fact that nobody cares.
But nothing you've seen
Compares to being, in front of no house just stairs.

There's just concrete slabs, left of what used to be
A city, with so much to see
You can't imagine the cost
The people are just getting, more tired and lost

Most have given up hope
But they're still trying to cope with the fact that nobody cares
But nothing you've seen
Compares to being in front of no house, just stairs

Celebrities and agencies
Do what they can, there's still hope
For all those still trying to cope
There's people who care although those types might be rare
Pretty soon there will be houses to go with those stairs.

So don't give up your hope
Stop trying to cope, there's no fact that nobody cares.
Because nothing we've seen, can compare to being in front of no house, just stairs.

Sign up for a JustWorks camp today.

The following blog was written by Taylor Longo, of Syracuse, N.Y., while participating in a Katrina JustWorks Camp in New Orleans.

Taylor Longo, right, cutting grass, during a Katrina JustWorks Camp.

I return home carrying with me all of the memories, stories, experiences, and a new outlook. I think of all that we did in the week we spent in New Orleans - and all that still needs to be done.

I think of the nice lady with the two young kids who thanked us and brought us cold water and soda as we cut her once-neighbor's grass; those children who have no one to play with; the family whose faces lingered in that lonesome picture frame that hung in that abandoned house. I pray that they are safe and wonder where they are today.

I think of all those who thanked us, all of those who helped us to get here, and all of those who worked alongside me. I truly hope that they are doing well.

I think of all I learned from Dr. Kimberley Richards of the People's Institute for Survival and Beyond, Mary Croom Fontenot of All Congregations Together; Rev. Tyronne Edwards of Zion Travelers Cooperative Center, the staff and volunteers, and all of those kids.

I think of the man who told us about the water we stood in front of. I hope that he is a step closer to getting into his house.

I am so thankful that I now can truly explain to others why the people of New Orleans should get help and support. I can use pictures and stories. I hope that because of these stories many others will do what we have done.

The following blog was written by Rev. Jennifer Hamlin-Navias, while participating in a Katrina JustWorks Camp in New Orleans. She is an ordained UCC minister and the Director of Education at May Memorial Unitarian Universalist Society, in Syracuse, N.Y.

Things I learned:

• Upstate New York has no idea what hot really is.
• When you all sweat together it doesn't smell.
• Sheetrock mud fixes everything.
• There is still nothing better than freeze pops on a hot afternoon.
• Outdoor showers rock!
• The solution to insomnia is hard work.
• Blisters are badges of honor.
• Laughter heals more than you can imagine.
• Love gives us courage.
• Fear makes us small.
• Volunteer is a sacred name.
• There's no mistake so big you can't fix it.

There is more that I want to put into the above list. But I have not yet been able to figure out what that is. But I have not yet been able to figure out what that is. Perhaps it needs to percolate a bit more; maybe I need to process it to make sense out of it. I also wonder if there is a part of my experience that is simply beyond words. So if I were wise I would stop writing now. But I feel compelled to try to communicate.

At one point I realized that the information we were getting about New Orleans was devastating — racism and injustice abounded before and after Katrina, and still abounds.

The levee that broke was real, and the water that flooded thousand upon thousands of homes was real. But another "levee" broke for me, one that had held back the reality of the injustice that still lives in this country. I wanted my country, my people, to be beyond that. I wanted my levee of denial to hold firm, but it did not.

Jennifer Hamlin-Navias, left, and Joe Blotz in the bathroom they drywalled, in Plaquemines Parish, La.

What my government, your government, has not done is pathetic. What made that realization livable was seeing that, in one small way, I was part of the solution. To know that I was part of a larger group, "the volunteers," allowed me to see where the hope is in New Orleans. The hope lies in the power of the New Orleans community to rebuild itself and in its power in asking other communities to join in that effort.

I am honored that for a small bit of time I was part of that effort. I hope that sometime in the future I will be able to be part of that effort again.

The following blog post was written by Eternity Williams, of Syracuse, N.Y., while participating in a Katrina JustWorks Camp, in New Orleans. She is 17 years old.

Eternity Williams (front row, second from left) poses with newfound friends and fellow JustWorks volunteers, in New Orleans.

It’s the last day of work and we’re all in the car, waiting for the ferry. As I sit here, I'm thinking about how the trip went, but my thoughts are distracted by laughter. The laughter comes from Conner and Sarah, and it is wonderful. It makes me realize all of the friendships we have made in such a short time.

We all met at the airport with one common goal: to do as much as possible to help New Orleans. From that point to our final goodbyes, we have left a mark on New Orleans.

I hope we will all stay in contact on Facebook and be able to meet in New Orleans or another place to help the community. I had a great time creating bonds with these people. The best part was working as a team, from putting up sheetrock to mudding the holes in the walls.

We, as a group, made memories that we will never forget. I had a blast, and I really hope we can do this again.

The following blog post was written by Mike Cohen, of Syracuse, N.Y., while participating in a Katrina JustWorks Camp, in New Orleans. He is 17 years old.

Today I dragged myself out of bed for a quick breakfast, after which I was spirited away to the house I've been working on these last few days. It's true that I had choices of other work sites, but for one reason or another I keep ending up at this one.

Now this house isn’t the prettiest thing. It's currently covered in plastic, and inside there are only varying degrees of brown and white. To my dismay the colors haven’t changed much since I got here. However, I've been told that we are making progress.

This house is owned by a person who originally didn’t need any assistance. She paid a contractor to help her rebuild and expand her home, so her extended family could move in. But the contractor did a terrible job, cashed her check, and left without a trace — an all too common practice in New Orleans after Katrina.

So it was up to me and the group of volunteers I’ve been working with to slather a substance that our supervisor calls "mud" over the walls and cover every crack with tape.

But we've been covering the walls with something other than just mud. We have been sweating too. New Orleans needs human help, it's what this city most needs. But no matter how many buckets of mud they buy, no matter how many ladders they set up, if they don’t get the workforce then this city will never be returned to its original splendor.

Even if it doesn’t look like we’ve gotten anywhere on one single house, I know I’m a part of a greater movement that will sweat their bodies dry to help water the once and still great oak that is New Orleans.

The following blog post was written by Eternity Williams, of Syracuse, N.Y., while participating in a Katrina JustWorks Camp, in New Orleans. Williams is 17 years old.

Coming down to New Orleans has been an experience already. On the plane ride I was really excited to see lots of new houses being built and redone. But to my surprise, that’s not what I saw at all. What I saw was hurtful.

I saw empty lots with grass growing taller than me and abandoned houses for miles. The saddest part was seeing the concrete steps leading up to nothing. (They used to go up to houses!) I thought there would be a lot more work going on, but there isn’t.

I have learned a lot about what really happened during and after Hurricane Katrina. We had a discussion with Dr. Kimberley Richards, of the People's Institute for Survival and Beyond, and I was moved by what she told us. She explained about the issue of race.

One story that really touched me as an African American was what happened to residents of the American Can Apartment Building. Basically, people — black and white — were trapped in the building by the flood. They all moved to the roof, where they began trying to wave down helicopters flying over them. Then they realized that they should only let the white people flag down helicopters. When the helicopters passed over and saw only white people, they decided to rescue them.

Hearing that really touched me because when people’s lives are in danger and you’re coming to help, race shouldn’t matter.

I’ve been helping drywall a house for the past few days. Seeing the state of distress that this city is in makes me want to just rebuild everyone’s house with money out of my own pocket.

I have also realized what I am going to do in my spare time. I am going to do as much volunteer work as possible because the satisfaction of helping people and rebuilding people’s lives makes you feel like a better person.

The following blog was written by Liz Allen, of Syracuse, N.Y., while participating in a Katrina JustWorks Camp in New Orleans. She will be starting her first year at Bucknell University in the fall.

JustWorks volunteers at work in the Lower Ninth Ward.

In the days leading up to this trip and during the multiple plane rides I took from Syracuse to New Orleans, I often contemplated my upcoming trip. I came to the realization that this experience would be vastly different from the community service that I have done in past.

I have worked with the homeless and the less privileged. I have worked with children and the hungry. And I indirectly affected lives through Heifer International. However, never before have I done such focused service work.

I have met people who have been a part of this rebuilding effort and people who have known New Orleans as a tourist attraction but who have never personally been here.

Seeing the devastation firsthand, like we did on our tour today, is surreal. I’ve recognized buildings from the news and felt myself nearly drowning as I saw watermarks far above my head. I saw empty lots and doors marked by deathly symbols. I saw destroyed foundations and stairs leading to nowhere.

But most of all I saw the resilience, optimism, and hope that exudes from everyone whom I have met, and I have happily accepted this positive attitude.

Because I have enjoyed my time here in New Orleans, despite the destruction, I’m sure that I will have an even greater appreciation for the city once it regains its footing.

The following blog was written by Miles Kraemer, of Syracuse, N.Y., while participating in a JustWork Camp in New Orleans, La. Kraemer is a recent graduate of Northeastern University, in Boston, Mass.

Miles Kraemer (left), 24, with fellow JustWorks volunteers, in New Orleans's Ninth Ward.

Yesterday, I arrived in New Orleans from Boston and met up with most of our group from Syracuse. (Three people arrived today.) We enjoyed a tour and information session with our hosts at the Center for Ethical Living and Social Justice Renewal and a lovely dinner.

Today started early, as we aimed to be at one of two work locations by 8 a.m. I worked with a team in the Lower Ninth Ward, the part of New Orleans that may have been damaged the most as a result of Hurricane Katrina and the unequal recovery of communities.

Our job was to clear an overgrown lot of vegetation so that the elderly and ill property owner would not suffer a fine from the city for failure to keep up her lawn.

It was very hot out, but our team worked well! We used machetes, pruners, rakes, and a lawn mower to clear the lot. Some of the grass/brush was over four feet tall when we first got there! By the end of the day, the six of us had cleared it completely.

Our evening event involved a Race, Class, and Katrina dialogue with Dr. Kimberley Richards, of the People's Institute for Survival and Beyond. We all thoroughly enjoyed the eye-opening experience and many great points of view were shared, as well as a lot of excellent book recommendations.

We look forward to bringing these ideas back to our communities.

In peace.