The Flood of '14

http://www.rainymood.com/ (Open this website in another tab while you read this story)

I have always loved rain: the raging thunder, the foreshadowing heavenly smell, the cool drizzle on my face, the refreshing wind. The rainstorm that started on July 15th started out no different for me. It had been a hot and muggy day, but dark clouds hinted at rainfall, and I was content as I changed my outfit to go to a dinner meeting with my coworkers. I decided to change into long sleeves, long pants and knee-high boots as the rain started to fall. Our windows were open, and I could hear my neighbors run through the rain singing, laughing and dancing in puddles.This was nothing unusual, and while waiting for my ride I went out and stood on the porch and watched the spectacle, smiling faintly as I enjoyed the quiet moment. It was the week before finals, I had been working full time and going to school full time, so a peaceful second to relax was rare and appreciated. As the rain fell harder, I noticed as I looked down the staircase to the basement apartments that the water was starting to trickle down to their front doors.

As their R.A. (Resident Assistant) I felt a responsibility for them, and thought that maybe a couple of inches might leak beneath the doors, so I headed down to let them know that they should keep their doors shut, roll up towels, and put them at the base. I then headed across the way to the other building I oversee and warned them of the same thing. I came back and saw that already the sidewalks and grass were about 5 inches deep in water. Worried at what I might find back at my building, I tromped through the rapidly rising water back to the basement. By this point the water has risen to the doorknobs of their front door, with no slowing in sight. I ran back to my apartment directly above theirs, where I placed a call to our manager to inform her of the situation.

Suddenly there were girls yelling simultaneously, so loudly I couldn't tell what any one person was saying. I hung up the phone and headed down the stairs, only to see that the door frames had broken, and the water level was now waist high in the apartments. I handed my phone to one of the girls coming out of the chaos, told her to call 911, and headed down the staircase, which can only best be described as a waterfall. I had to hold onto the railings on both sides to keep from being swept off my feet and into the lake forming in the stairwell. My first thought was to get all the girls out. I was warmly dressed, and so I dove in. The first thing that came to my attention besides the bone-chilling cold water was that the fridge was literally floating past me. I can't even begin to describe to you how long it takes for that to process, stupid as it sounds. The few girls left in the water were trying to salvage whatever they could. Along with several others, I immediately started grabbing anything I could see that could be saved quickly: DVD player, laptops, books, clothing, and handed it out to those standing on the stairway, who would then pile it on our front lawn and in the upper level living rooms.

After a few trips back and forth, suddenly it hit me: the electricity. We were then chest high in water from two apartments, both of which still had live power running in outlets and electronics floating past. Getting everyone out of the water was then foremost in my mind, with an urgency I cannot relay. "Get out, get out now!" I yelled into bedrooms as I tried to clear rooms. I remember thinking how grateful I was that I had taken a CERT course in high school and knew some techniques used by emergency responders. My friend Parker and I got both apartments clear as I realized two things: 1-We had not successfully reached the fire or police department due to the massive influx of calls they were receiving, and 2-the water was then so high that it didn't matter if we were out of the apartments or not, we were no longer safe from the possibility of electrocution, and neither were the hundreds of people who were coming to our aid who were spread throughout the lawn, parking lot, and surrounding area.

I stood at the top of the stairs, made the decision to go in, glanced up at heaven and thought a simple prayer 'Please keep me safe', and slipped back into the ice-cold water. I knew the breakers were in the back bedroom, and slowly made my way through the shambles. The apartment had an eerie silence as I pushed the couch out of the way, dodged the floating kitchen table, and got to the bedroom. It felt like time was going by very slowly as I fought the door open and spotted the breaker. There was a mattress in front of it that I had to climb onto to get to it, and it took me three or four attempts to mount the floating bed, but I made it and breathed a sigh of relief as I flipped the last switch. I emerged from the apartment just in time to see someone else had turned off the other apartments power, and eager helpers seemed to be leaping back into the fray to rescue what they could.

I was surprised at how fast I went numb, and in water that came up to my shoulders moving was slow and careful, as we never knew what we were kicking beneath the surface. I had to watch the volunteers as much as the surrounding area, because hazards such as the water pushing doors shut and entrapping them or hypothermia became fast possibilities. Many had also dove in without shoes, and that was a huge worry as we walked through broken glass and other debris. Some of you might have thought of this by now, but the water had quickly become sewer water, mixed with anything that was in the house, pipes, surrounding area, or had carried from campus. We tried not to think as we rushed to fill boxes, bins, trash cans, or anything else that could hold items as we plunged through the murky flow to retrieve anything we could. 

Time passed slowly and yet all at once, and as more volunteers arrived I was able to step back and fill a role as a helper instead of directing the troops. My adrenaline had been going for so long that as the minutes turned to hours, I could feel more than just my body numbing. I couldn't think clearly as I slowed down, starting to feel the overwhelming exhaustion coupled with agonizing empathy as more and more ruined belongings were pulled from the flooded rooms. However, as I slowed down I was able to see  how others came to the aid of those victims-the men from our ward who came sprinting to assist as they heard of our distress, the women who immediately brought and served warm soup, cookies, and hot chocolate to all, the companies that donated services like auto repairs, free dry cleaning, and other necessities, and most of all, the mind-boggling amount of people who came from all around to serve! I was approached time and again by complete strangers who selflessly grabbed buckets and trekked to our complex to help the bucket brigade and wanted to know where to be. Donations seemed to appear almost magically, and it wasn't long until the girls from our complex were up to their ears in clothing, shoes, bedding, and other gifts from all over the nation.

Those who served or helped at all with the cleanup in the days and weeks that followed suffered burnout, and many donated much needed study time to wash clothing, sort shoes, bucket water, comfort the girls, run errands, or any other needs that arose as the days passed. After spending every spare moment I had in between class and work over at the apartments trying to sort through laundry and assorted items I was drained, and felt beaten at every turn in trying to keep up with the already crushing load I had undertaken prior to the flood. As I went to work early one morning my boss (who had showed up the day of the flood to my complex and volunteered to help) kindly asked how things were going. I unleashed all my emotion on him. Even though they had been instructed to be flexible, many professors didn't understand the degree of damage sustained and were still insisting on homework deadlines for the night of the flood, etc. that made a miserable situation unbearable as we tried to take care of basic necessities like find the girls clothes to wear day by day, or fans to keep them cool at night, etc. We also couldn't find enough time to take care of the girls, sleep, do homework, work, and eat. Often we were skipping meals, sleeping just a few hours, or making other sacrifices to support them. Of course these sacrifices were made happily and without hesitation, but the weight of a burden that large was taking it's toll. My boss asked me what I was still doing at work when there was work to be done at home. Before I could answer he asked if I needed the money, and I said yes, but that I would go over right after work and class was done for the day. I felt better as I had been able to unload some of my burden, and headed back to my desk. Not moments later did my boss approach my desk, ponder for a moment, then look me in the eye and say "If you weren't worried about the money, would you go help?" My puzzled response was "Of course." He then reached into his pocket, pulled out a $50 bill, handed it to me and said "Here are your wages for the day, get out of here", and when I started to argue his response was "Go help those girls". These were the kind of Christ-like sacrifices we saw time and again, during and after the flood.

The emotions that followed as the days pushed on were crippling, as the girls each broke down at different times, and even the best intentions to serve needed to be curbed or halted in order to give them the space to grieve and absorb what had happened. Even as an observer, there were several moments where I wanted nothing more than to sit down amongst the piles of laundry and sob.

Watching the grieving process for all affected was so enlightening, as each was so unique. Many of the girls, including myself, felt guilt at expressing any kind of sorrow or distress at the events that had transpired, even though everyone's world was shaken up that day on some level. Draining weeks passed, and I still look into those empty shells of apartments with the remnants of that day still left inside and I am right back in that freezing water, holding a box over my head as I swim past floating debris.

As difficult as that time was, I was reminded of the best in humanity that day, and saw Christ reflected in the service rendered time and again. The lesson I learned the most from was at 1am that night as the trucks were still pumping water, people's belongings drenched in sewer water were on every surface of our living room and kitchen, and we had just returned from showering at a stranger's house because our water had been shut off. For the first time in 5-6 hours I was dry, full and starting to take in what had happened, and none of us wanted to be home, as the noise and carnage of the flood was still everywhere, filling our house, minds and ears with a constant reminder of what had just transpired. We were exhausted but couldn't sleep, our minds racing but couldn't think, as we sat in our rooms watching video of the destruction all over the city and tried to take it all in. A knock at our door shook us out of the trance, and there stood Korrie, one of the girls who lost everything. In her hands was a garbage bag with unknown contents, and as I came out of my bedroom she looked me in the eye and said the most sobering thing that has not left me: "Jade, you were in that water a long time, and I was wondering if I could wash your clothes for you". Just hours before this girl was watching everything she owned float through poop water, not knowing what could be saved or recovered, and yet here she was, standing in my living room asking to wash my set of wet clothes. What a sobering moment that was for me-what a selfless act, and in the midst of all that had transpired she had the thought to serve me. I had never experienced that kind of Christ-like selflessness and service before, and I hope to one day exemplify the grace and kindness Korrie and many other victims did in the face of a tragedy.

Do I still love the rain? I am more wary of it's power, but I can see a beauty in it. 'How Firm a Foundation' is one of my favorite hymns, and the words from one verse come to mind as I ponder on the memory of that day:
"When through the deep waters I call thee to go,

The rivers of sorrow shall not thee o'erflow,

For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless,

And sanctify to thee...thy deepest distress."

 How eternally grateful I am for a Heavenly Father that can teach with a tragedy, can comfort in conflict, and that can refine through ruins.