Happy Sunday, Everyone
Even Angels Can’t Look Sometimes!
We were about to embark on the most
exhausting season of our lives. It
was late
June 1994, and our young family had decided on a beach vacation to our
favorite set of cabins in Cape San Blas, Fla.,
but a couple of days before we were
to leave, we
noticed a tropical storm churning in the Gulf of Mexico that was
headed
straight for our destination. Ugh! we had taken a week’s vacation,
packed for 3
young children, made all the necessary preparations, it was the
appointed
time to leave and here we were staring at the Weather Channel.
By the next morning, Tropical Storm Alberto
appeared to fizzle out as it
moved
northward. We were so excited that we
threw our kids and our gear in
the car, and
not wanting to waste another day, took off for the three hour drive
south at warp
speed.
One of the reasons that we loved
this beach so was that it was virtually
uninhabited
and had very little cell phone reception.
We had a perfect week
of wonderful weather and great memories with
our children. We mentioned
over and
over that we didn’t know what we had done to deserve such a blessed
life. Little
did we know what was ahead.
We headed home on a Saturday
afternoon, and as my husband was
Searching
for an Atlanta Braves Game on the radio, we heard frantic weather
warnings
about shelters and preparations for homes and animals in nearby areas.
We noticed
that all of the ditches were full and that there had been a lot of rain.
We couldn’t
figure it out. The sky was blue, not
even a cloud, what was going on?
Surely it
didn’t involve us!
We arrived home and as we unpacked and had
supper and got the boys
settled in I
noticed the answering machine: over 25
messages! Wow! What had
we missed? I listened to a few, but they were all the
same, “Are you okay? How
bad is it
going to get?”, “Call us!” Then I got a
little alarmed. We turned on the
weather
channel to see what was up. It had begun to rain….and rain…
Apparently, Tropical Storm Alberto
did not give up so easily. He rambled
through
Southeast Alabama and Southwest Georgia and dumping 21 inches of
rain in 24
hours in our area and a total of 27 inches of rain would fall before he
was finished
wreaking havoc. Widespread flooding was
predicted when the
rivers
crested even without the additional rain expected. Having not been home
for all of
the rain, it was hard to imagine that this was not just a scare. I went to
the grocery
store to stock up and since we lived more than a mile from the river
we weren’t
worried. But, I got to the grocery store and was unprepared for the
mass
chaos! I grew up in a coastal area and
was familiar with bracing for storms,
but this was
crazy. There was nothing on the shelves
and people were fighting
over milk,
bread and toilet paper.
The next morning, we awoke to the
sound of the back up beeps on heavy
equipment
coming from behind our street. It
continued all morning. My
husband was
off, so I went to work and left everyone sleeping. Then, the
nightmare
began. As I arrived, there was this
persistent rushing sound
underscoring
the sound of the heavy equipment.
I directed a
day program for adults with developmental delays. As my clients
began
arriving, they were very anxious about the “storm” and the “big flood”.
Almost as
soon as they arrived, we were told to evacuate the building. My co-
worker and I
scrambled to get their transportation needs met, and get them back
home and as
we loaded the last bus, and as I stepped around back, I saw it.
Flood water
crossing the parking lot… not a wall of water, but a steady constant
ankle deep
stream showing no signs of slowing down…not even a little bit. I
hurried the two
blocks home and told my husband what I had seen, we stepped
outside,
heard the dull but constant roaring of the water and realized that the
heavy
equipment trucks were earth movers shoring up levees and river banks.
We sprung
into action, placing furniture and valuables up high, putting things in
the attic,
loading the car, trying not to panic three bright and inquisitive young
boys .As
both vehicles were loaded, we took another walk up to the highway and
saw the
water less than a block away, then returned home and saw it
approaching
our back yard. We hugged each other, and
returned inside and
prayed.
Not too much later we heard mandatory
evacuation order for our street.
We agreed it
was time to go. The Boys, the dog, the
important papers and I piled
in our mini
van where Marty hugged me and said, “I’m
right behind you”, I just
need to
close up a few things.” With a look that
said so much more.
We set out for our friend Debbie’s
house, our safe place across town, all of
us in
stunned silence, even Shadow the dog (highly unusual!). Marty wasn’t right
behind
me. It was about 3:00pm, when I arrived
at Debbie’s. Four o’clock came
and went, no
Marty. We were only 10 minutes from Debbie and Milton’s with
traffic. Five o’clock came, no Marty. Then, at about 5:30, our friend Bobbie called
and said
that Marty was with Her husband Jim, Jim had brought a boat and they
were loading
up what they could and taking it to some storage that Jim had
available.
It was then that I shed my first tears of relief, and hurt and panic and
fear. It was also then, that the magnitude of the
kindness of others was vividly
impressed
again on me as an adult. In less than 48 hours, we had gone from very
blessed
vacationers to a homeless family depending on the kindness of others.
Later that
afternoon, another dear friend in harm’s way and her family came to
Debbie’s
house to stay. It later turned out that
their home was spared. As it grew
dark, the
sound of helicopters grew closer, Sirens
were everywhere, and still no
Marty. As we watched the news we learned that this
was one of the greatest
natural disasters of the 90’s . The dams broke, the town of Albany was not
only
flooded, but
divided as the bridges over the river that separated the two parts of
town were
compromised. Lives were lost and
thousands were homeless. The
National Guard was called in, FEMA was on their
way, and President Clinton was
coming in to
survey the disaster. Marty and Jim
finally arrived at around 10:00
pm, wet, and exhausted. I had never been so glad to see two people in
my life.
Marty and I
went to kiss the boys goodnight and I asked him the question whose
answer I already
knew; “Is it gone?” He said “Yes, the water was coming in
when I left.”
We went to sleep that night thankful for our
little family, for our
friends and
not sure what to do next. The next eight days were a blur. The next
morning,
Debbie woke me, and told me that her teenage daughter would be
caring for
the boys and took me to a shelter where we were to help serve a meal
to others who were in need. Marty
was in state law enforcement and as all
those in
helping positions were called to action I barely saw him for the next eight
days. He
later told me many of the difficult tasks he was doing.
Not only was our home submerged, but
my place of work was also
under water.
I worked for a large agency, so I was
able to fill in at other locations
and
departments as many employees were unable to come to work and some
parts of town were impassable. I remember thinking that daily life was like
walking through
jello. I drew strength from our friends
and family. Each day, one
of us would
drive by the house and get as close as possible, and wait for the water
to recede. I
remember getting a FEMA number to register our family as flood
victims, my
new routine involved getting tetanus shots for our family, before we
returned to
our home, waiting in line for copies of records that I did not take with
me, trying
to find a temporary place to live as soon as possible, going to church,
and trying to
make things seem like an adventure for our sons. I remember one
afternoon, I
took them to the movie to see the Lion King as it had just been
released. It was dark, they were engaged, and I could
cry alone for a solid two
hours!
Finally, the water around town began
to recede and we were able to get to
our
home. Nothing could have prepared us for
what we saw. Not only was there
flood water,
but a sewer pumping station nearby had backed up covering our
neighborhood
in raw sewage. We stood together looking at what we had spent
the last 11
years accumulating, things that were once valuable to us, and there
they sat,
covered with mold, mildew and sewage.
What we had wouldn’t have
been much to
anyone else, but to us, it was part of our identity, or so we
thought. We had survived a flood, we were intact, the
five of us. Living,
breathing,
laughing, crying, and we didn’t “need” a single thing in that house.
We ventured out into the backyard,
and were surveying the damage and
then we saw
it…in the back left corner of the yard was a rose garden that I had
faithfully
tended and my husband so carefully picked out each bush. The roses
were dead,
but in the center was a concrete angel, she had survived and was in
the same
place, but she had one addition, one of the boys’ plastic batting
helmets floated
around the yard and ended up right on the top of her head,
covering
both of her eyes! The joy of being
blessed returned in the instant we
saw that
silly angel. We laughed...the laugh of
those who had survived something
awful and
had lived to tell about it. We laughed
because we would all be okay,
because life
does go on, because the junk in the house that we once treasured
really
didn’t matter. What mattered were us.
What mattered was the kindness
and love we
had been shown by friends and family and strangers alike. Things do
get better
and in the midst of it you are carried.
There is still good in the world
and, Yes, God
does have a sense of humor, and I am so glad He chose to use an
angel in a
red baseball helmet to reveal it to us!
It’s been 18 years now; My husband
went into full time ministry just a few
years after
the flood. We have made five moves since
then. The angel is still
with us, she
is missing a wing now, but she serves as a constant reminder of all
that we
learned in our backyard on a hot July day when she was adorned with a
red helmet!
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