PASS CHRISTIAN, Miss. -- This once-quaint Gulf Coast community of 6,700 is slowly, ever so slowly, coming back.

Giant machines with mechanical claws groan, picking up parts of houses and dropping them in dump trucks. Chainsaws buzz. Schoolchildren playing tag shriek and squeal.

It's a far cry from four months ago, when Hurricane Katrina came crashing ashore.

When Kristi Watts of Montgomery arrived here, after already volunteering in four other towns hit by Katrina, she couldn't believe what she saw. It was worse than anything the stay-at-home mom could have imagined.

Houses and businesses were caked with mud and filled with water. Boats sat in front yards. The beach was all but gone. In those early hours and days, there was quiet determination to overcome. Today, with a new year about to start, that determination has turned into optimism for some and frustration for others.

Yes, the electricity and water are back on, but FEMA trailers -- white boxes, really -- sit where houses and historic estates once did. Some people still sleep in tents, and some are trying desperately just to come home. And then there are those who will never return.

Loretta Lizana is back, but she's not sure she'll rebuild -- or stay. She might go live near her sister in DeLisle, 10 miles away on higher ground.

"The thought of rebuilding is heartbreaking to me," she said.

The rushing storm surge picked up Lizana's house and set it straddling the street. Now it is in piles on either side of the road after a bulldozer cleared a path. Most of what was inside couldn't be saved.

Lizana does not want to put a FEMA trailer on her lot.

"I'm not ready to put a trailer there," Lizana said. "There is still a lot of sadness there."

Lizana still has her job with the public schools, but only about 200 of the 500 students have returned. All of the grades are on one campus, dotted with portable buildings. Some classrooms have two or three teachers each.

Government, too, is up and running, though the police station, firehouse and City Hall now are portable buildings. The bank and library also are open and operating out of temporary quarters. And there's one place where residents can buy gas.

There isn't much other business going on. Crews pick up piles of bricks, trees, shingles and lost personal items. Hammers can be heard pounding nails into plywood.

Eventually, Trinity Episcopal Church will have new walls. At least Katrina left the bells and the building's frame intact. Houses of worship have been beacons during this trying time.

Burton Gordon officially is retired, but he spends his time these days shoulder to shoulder with people of all faiths, rebuilding Trinity. His stake is personal. Trinity is where he attends.

Someday, if Gordon and his fellow parishioners have their way, a redesigned Trinity will be built. It will be an entire complex to take up the 14 acres it sits on.

"We're not discouraged," Gordon said. "There's a lot of hope."