The Storm

On September 1, we were enjoying a comfortable, quite evening at home. Chelsea, Thomas, and Co, had headed to Idaho to help my parents and grandparents with a few projects. I was crocheting around the edge of a flannel blanket for Amber when all of a sudden, it started pouring rain. Huge raindrops. Then, it sounded like someone was throwing rocks onto our roof. Then, it sounded like people were throwing handfuls of rocks at our windows. We ran to check what was going on. We found the biggest hail stones I have ever seen--about the size of a gumball, the ones from the vending machines. By the time I thought to grab the camera, the hail stones had dropped in size and the storm lessened, so this picture doesn't quite capture the amazingness of the storm:

We didn't think too much of it, and then went quietly on with the rest of our night. Around 10 or 10:30 p.m., Taryn called to see if we were okay. I was surprised, "Yeah, why?" She told me that the news was talking about a lot of flooding in our area. Right about then we got a text from our next door neighbors, who were out of town, to ask if their house was okay. We got on the news and Facebook and were surprised to hear that there was a huge mud slide and flash flood. Brian headed out to see if he could help sand bag, and I stayed home and fretted. At midnight, I decided I should just go to bed. Brian got in at 1 a.m. to say that our next door neighbor's sprinkler was broken and flooding our yard. Thankfully, since he got home right before it happened, he was able to catch it, get in touch with our neighbors (the ones who were out of town), and turn their sprinklers off. 

Church was canceled the next day, and our Stake President urged us to instead head out and help our neighbors. The mudslide, a result of the June fire, slammed through one of the neighborhoods in our stake, just two subdivisions north of us. It flooded the main road so badly that it was closed for around four hours Saturday night, which meant that a lot of people had to drive clear around the lake to get home, some of them to relieve worried baby-sitters.

Brian headed out, and I found out that the women were making sandwiches and collecting water for the workers. So, I used up the last of our lunch meat and made sandwiches, and then donated all the remaining loaves in our house. I also donated water and Gatorade. It seemed so not enough, especially when I heard reports about people's basements filled with mud and water, and at least one house that was completely ruined and basically condemned. I watched volunteers come in and out of our stake center parking lot, some mud covered, all smiling. The parking lot was packed, and there was a steady stream of volunteers. Our Stake Center served as a Red Cross station and clean-up headquarters. I felt so united with my community, and I wondered if that's what the sisters in old Nauvoo felt like when they worked together to bring relief and build their temple.

When the Stake Relief Society president told us to halt making sandwiches for a few hours, there was nothing really for me to do. Michael and I changed and headed to a sacrament meeting, and then came home to find a pile of muddy clothes in our mudroom. Brian had since come home with a cut and a huge bruise. He'd already showered, so I couldn't get him in his muddy state, so I made him hold up his pants:

And notice those muddy shoes. He told me about bucket lines of people passing mud out of the basements, mud up to the light switches, and water a foot above the mud line. And  thousands of volunteers. (I got the remaining photographs from my friend, Mekel, who lives in this neighborhood. Brian didn't take a camera with him for obvious reasons, and they asked us only volunteers to be there.)

A note about the hail. Brian said that in at least one of the basements, the hail was still inside, making the basement like a freezer/refrigerator, so volunteers could only be inside digging mud for so long before they had to go out and defrost!

A lady in Sacrament Meeting on Sunday told a story about from one of the people affected by the mudslide. He said that on the night of the flood, kids and parents were all out playing. Even when the rain hit, the kids were still outside playing. But when those huge hail stones came, it sent all the kids inside so that when the wall of mud, concrete, wire, water, and who knows what else came barreling down the street a few minutes later, all the kids and parents were safely inside. The miracle was in the hail. If it hadn't hailed, the kids would have still been out when the mud came. The home owners who lost their homes would have lost so much more than that.

Today, as I drove past the flood zone, I saw a sign from the residents of the affected neighborhood saying, "Thank you to everyone who helped us." Some of them lost homes, but instead of being angry or bitter, their hearts are filled with gratitude. It amazes me, and I'm glad I could help, even in my pathetic way. In our clean up efforts, we lost our best utility knife and our shop broom, but I'm so grateful that we didn't lose our home. This year has taught me that sometimes fires and floods happen, but the Lord is always there to help us cope and bring out the best in us. There are miracles in the face of disasters. I love my neighbors; I love my community, and these two natural disasters have brought us all closer together.