mudding out
I was part of the first and eleventh Katrina relief trips. We went to help the residents of Hancock County, Mississippi salvage what remained of their homes and belongings and clean up what had been irreparably ruined.
In my day job, I meet with clients, work at a computer and build concepts and images. It’s clean. Neat. Sterile.
Not in Hancock County.
Our most memorable task was “mudding out.” It was dirty. Smelly. Toxic. Mudding out involves stripping water-damaged houses to the beams, shoveling mud and belongings into wheelbarrows to be dumped at the curb, hauling out all appliances, ripping up carpet and tearing down moldy drywall.
I remember slipping in mud as I pushed the wheel barrow.
The stench of rotten paint and debris.
Endless trips back and forth to the curbside pile.
Sewage-contaminated water stagnating in the street.
An unbelievably small pile of possessions returned to homeowners at the end of the day.
Statistics say that, as of December 31, 2005, 2.5 million cubic yards of debris had been removed—only 30% of the wreckage caused by Hurricane Katrina. Chaos is still the norm; there remains a great deal of clean up and rebuilding to be done.
As heartbreaking as it was, in the midst of the debris I found a new standard by which to look at my possessions, relationships, success, future . . . My home and my heart are less about stuff and more about filling those places with the people I love. For me, the chaos brought clarity. Mud brought cleansing.
It’s strange that it happened this way, but I think that’s God’s miracle.
I was baptized as a child and as an adult. Until my trip to Hancock County, I never entirely understood my baptism or what it meant to be the hands and feet of Christ.
But now I feel like I was baptized by mud.













