Building Houses, Healing Hearts: Sister Regina Marie’s Legacy of Service After Hurricane Katrina

This story is part of a special series commemorating the 20th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. Through the voices of survivors, volunteers, and those who helped with the long-term recovery, we honor the extraordinary resilience of individuals and communities in New Orleans.

As Sister Regina Marie prepared to leave her adopted hometown of New Orleans in June 2025, nearly two decades after she first arrived to help after Hurricane Katrina, she walked once more through the Lower Ninth Ward and St. Bernard Parish.

“I went to give thanks,” she said, “for the many roads I traveled down in that area, the houses I helped build, the people I met.”

Signs of Katrina’s impact remain. “Just two weeks ago, I found slabs with weeds growing up around them, the stoops still there—and that’s all. There are still people missing, who never came back.”

A member of the Ursuline Sisters, Sister Regina Marie became one of SBP’s most stalwart volunteers in the years that followed Katrina. She helped raise critical funds and awareness during SBP’s early days and co-founded Nuns Build in 2008, a program that brought Catholic sisters nationwide to rebuild homes and form lasting relationships with families. That same year, Sister Regina Marie launched a longstanding partnership between the Ursuline network and SBP, coordinating volunteer groups from Ursuline Academies in New Orleans, St. Louis and even London.

“There Weren’t Any Corners Anymore”

What Sister Regina Marie witnessed in the days and weeks after Katrina defied anything she could have imagined.

“Complete devastation—something none of us had ever experienced,” she recalled. “It’s one thing to read about a hurricane, or to hear someone describe it over the phone. But to see it, to walk through it…you just couldn’t fathom it.”

In the weeks and months after the levees broke, entering St. Bernard Parish and the Lower Ninth Ward meant reentering neighborhoods stripped of their landmarks. Residents were only allowed back in by zip code, escorted by military vehicles. “You’d think, ‘Oh yeah, right around this corner,’ but there weren’t any corners anymore. Everything had flooded. And when the water receded, it left behind mud, debris, and silence. You’d take a step and hear crunch, crunch—grass dried out, rubble everywhere,” Sister Regina Marie said.

She remembered people finally arriving at what was once their home, only to find it barely recognizable. “They’d open the door and water would just gush out. Refrigerators were tossed into bedrooms. Drapes tangled around ceiling fans. The storm swirled everything, as if the whole house had been picked up and shaken.”

There were lots so overgrown that SBP teams had to hack a path through waist-high weeds, keeping an eye out for snakes and even alligators. Inside, closets contained clothes dried solid and stiff, like boards. Pantry shelves were crumbling under spoiled food.

But even in that chaos, there were moments that uplifted her.

“There was one woman who told me her house had seventeen feet of water in it. Everything was destroyed. But when she came back, there on the kitchen windowsill was a four-inch plastic statue of the Virgin Mary—untouched,” she said.

“You Couldn’t Do Everybody’s House at Once”

In those early days, volunteering meant stepping into uncertainty and doing it anyway.

“You couldn’t do everybody’s house at once,” Sister Regina Marie said. “We just followed the protocol. Someone from SBP would assign a house, and we’d go.”

Finding the house was its own challenge. GPS on cell phones wasn’t yet widely used, so volunteers were handed out printed maps. They would study the map, figuring out the route: turn left here, right there, always drive in the middle of the road because the edges were littered with nails. Flat tires were common, almost expected.

Even the places that seemed structurally intact told a different story once inside.

She recalled working in a Catholic nursing home in New Orleans East. The upper floors had been spared, but the lower ones were heavily flooded. “We were told not to take anything,” she said. “But if we found something valuable—photos, wedding albums, jewelry—we’d carefully mark the room number and set the item aside, hoping it might make its way back to the owner.”

Building Not Only Houses, But Also Hearts

Despite the hardships, the people Sister Regina Marie met in New Orleans always carried a profound sense of gratitude.

“They might have lost everything but they would say, ‘Oh, we’re fine. We have one another,’” she recalled. “Their gratitude was humbling.”

For Sister Regina Marie, the experience of rebuilding after Katrina did more than repair homes—it deepened her spiritual life.

“As a sister, that’s what we do,” she explained. “We give. We help people. Whether it’s reading with someone, serving at a food pantry, or working on a house, it’s all about the gift of service.”

She shares this spirit with the students and volunteers who come with her.

“We’re building not only houses, but hearts. Giving people hope,” she said. “Compassionate service isn’t just about nails and drywall. It’s about creating connections, lifting spirits, and restoring dignity. That’s the true heart of recovery.”

Related story: SBP Honors Sister Regina Marie at Farewell Community Celebration