Helping Create a New Future in Mississippi

The week after Christmas 2005, Fourth Church volunteers traveled to
Gautier, Mississippi, to help those affected by Hurricane Katrina.
Here they share some of their reflections on their time on the Gulf Coast.

 

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The image seared into my brain is both simply and complexly poignant. On a tree abutting Ocean Drive in Pascagoula, the flags of Mississippi and the United States lay draped across branches, flanking a bible verse spray-painted onto a piece of plywood. It explained the solidarity of the nation, the state, but that the importance of faith and of God is not lost, even in times of disaster.

Katrina may have battered the physical structures of the people of Gautier, Moss Point, and the other nearby communities, but it cannot dampen their spirits as they rebuild. They see no reason to give up despite, in some cases, a loss of nearly all their worldly possessions. Schools are up and running, the Pizza Hut and Sonic are open for business, and towns are refilling with people who have nothing to lose.

Mission trips always offer a time for reflection but this trip, unlike my previous trips, took on a new meaning. This time it was a trip to help Americans. That sentiment has almost become cliché, but it does not ring hollow, nor has any of the truth been lost. A tragedy like Hurricane Katrina affects me on a deeper level because most of the victims share with me a common nationality, a common religion, and a common language. No longer do tragedies happen to “those people” in some other country.

As a boy I traveled to Mississippi a number of times. The low country of the south is “Coke country” where many of my family members have lived. I remember three things from those trips: the warmth of the people, the slower, smell-the-roses pace of life, and a bitter divide between races and classes contradictory to the warmth. Now, the divides are gone, and the warmth and slow pace have taken over as the reconstruction begins. Truly it is God’s grace working in His own mysterious way.

In the end, I’ll take away from this trip a sense that I worked with people to create a future that is not the same as the past, but part of something completely new. The two flags draped over the tree have come to mean something more than just a state or a country, but one group of people, living under God, invincible in the face of tragedy.

–– Thomas Coke


The Mississippi mission trip we took together over the New Year holiday to help the Katrina victims was just that––a mission! What a humbling experience. The perspective it brought to what is truly important in our lives was a gift. The people really need help and we were honored to provide what we could. We learned to hang dry wall and “mud,” helped build a couple kitchens and baths. Even though four months have passed since Katrina, the devastation is still right in your face. The people are so grateful, though you can tell they are in shock as they confront the ongoing chaos daily. It will be years before this is behind them.

–– Bruce Matthews and Mary Lee Montague


No doubt many of my fellow mission trip-goers will reflect eloquently about the spiritual component of such a trip, and others will share vividly the sense of accomplishment in rebuilding a home so that an overwhelmed family can begin putting their storm-ravaged life back together. Some in our group bonded together as tent mates, work teams, or happy hour seekers (there’s some in every Presbyterian crowd – thank goodness); most felt a special connection with the homeowners they worked along side of, and hopefully reflections on those relationships and new friendships will be captured. But I wonder whether these experiences, while meaningful, worthwhile, and dear, differ from those of any other mission trip. With careful consideration and a concentration of the mind, I pondered what made this mission trip the one I chose––or rather felt compelled––to join. Why this trip and what difference did we make?

Unsurprisingly, I was drawn to the fact Katrina and its aftermath rendered much of the Mississippi Gulf Coast the equivalent of a third world country. Like most of us, I open my wallet when called upon to assist far-flung corners of the world in times of great need and unimaginable disaster and I support my government in doing the same. But Mississippi was not a distant spot on the globe; Katrina tore up our own backyard. This seemed to call for something extra, something more immediate and intimate than a personal check and a big chunk of tax dollars.

The money helps, sure. The physical devastation wrought by Katrina along parts of the gulf coast matched the destruction of war-torn countries I’ve worked in. Yet there are stark differences between disasters in the U.S. and those encountered elsewhere in the world. Along Hwy 90, Wal-Marts were functioning and Lowe’s was doing a booming business. The availability of consumer goods and building materials helps diminish suffering and ease hopelessness . . . to a point. The bruising toll such disasters take on families, on livelihoods, and on the psyche is universal. Moving forward after such devastating loss requires more than monetary support. It requires the presence of a supportive community spirit and the sweat of many brows. It cannot be done alone.

Although financial need still exists, many Gulf Coast residents need something unavailable at Wal-Mart or Lowe’s. They need a half dozen pairs of hands to demolish rotten walls and install new dry wall. They need savvy amateur plumbers to make bathrooms functional. They need handy types who know how to wield a screw gun and T-square and have the patience to instruct those of us willing to learn. And they also need the presence of caring souls who are interested in their stories, their struggles, their progress and will listen while ripping soggy linoleum up off the kitchen floor. The tented camps for the volunteers run by Presbyterian Disaster Assistance need people willing to cook, to organize, and to run errands. All of these efforts combined contribute to the community spirit that enable families to reoccupy their homes, restart their lives, and relieve tired friends and relatives who have housed them since September.

As I reflect back on our week in a tented camp in a cow pasture in Gautier, I realize it all matters, every bit of it. Although the need for assistance will continue for months, perhaps even years, through our efforts and those like ours, the Gulf Coast is coming back slowly, house by house, neighborhood by neighborhood. Ultimately, tax dollars, government assistance programs and FEMA can only do so much. With apologies to Mother Goose, it seems all the king’s horses and all the king’s men can’t put Mississippi back together again. But we can, one family at a time.

–– Patricia Kendall


For me, the trip to Gautier was a great introduction to Fourth Presbyterian Church. We had a fantastic team of hardworking individuals who expressed such genuine concern for the residents we were helping. We bonded well as a team and really made an impact over the time we were there. The families whose homes we helped rebuild were so appreciative of our help, and we were equally appreciative of their willingness to share their stories, offer their hospitality and welcome, and introduce us to life in Gautier. I fondly remember the first woman whose home my team worked on––an elderly widow who’d waited in her attic for the hurricane water to subside. We could tell she was grateful to have people helping her in this time of need just as she had helped so many throughout her younger years in their times of need, such as her grandson who she invited to live with her when he wasn’t relating well to his stepfather. It recalls a basic principle you hope to experience throughout life––that you reach out to others when you’re able and there will be someone to reach out to you when you’re the one in need.

–– Lauren Jenee Jones


I am grateful for God calling us to serve His people. On our journey leading up to Epiphany, many of us were challenged and stretched beyond our comfort zones. We were challenged by things that we cannot understand. We were reminded that it is all right to have these feelings and that through these experiences we come to know God more personally. As we took this leap of faith, we were comforted by a God that is active and present in our lives and in the world, a God that knows every hair on our head and helps us to know our own frailty. We learned to meet people where they are and were reminded of our own times of exile––our deepest feelings of isolation, despair and doubt. We more deeply understand that “home” is something that resides in each of our hearts and is reflective of our unique relationship each of us has with God. Home is not the roof we sleep under, nor is it the walls that contain the pictures of treasured memories or letters from loved ones, it is not even the building in which we worship. “Home” is a place that cannot be broken by the forces of nature. Amid the chaos, our brothers and sisters were able to see a beacon of hope. I pray that our missionaries were angels of compassion, mercy, and love in the lives of those living in the darkest places. I am reminded of something which C.S. Lewis once wrote, “God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains; it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.” (C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain). Let us be “roused by the shouts of pain” and not forget the suffering of the hurricane victims.

–– Douglas Pond

For more information about other Fourth Presbyterian Church mission trip opportunities, contact Vicki Reynolds, Director of Mission, at 312.981.3384 (vreynolds@fourthchurch.org).