I had absolutely no idea when I last blogged that that very morning, two states away, tragedy had struck, fiercely and swiftly, so many.
Though I rarely watch the news I am a little embarrassed to say that I do tend to check Facebook at least two to three times a day. That day I didn’t. That day I just enjoyed having the day off and spending the evening with not often seen in person family. Who doesn’t love a snuggle from a baby great-niece, or goofy grins and peek-a-boos with a toddling great-nephew? It really was a great evening all around.
So I was a little surprised when scrolling through Facebook the next morning that one of the first things I saw was a post with just a picture of the state of Texas outlined, with the words “Texas Strong” written inside. It was posted by a high school friend who had moved to the Texas Hill Country area years and years ago.
I do, in fact, have several friends who happily call Texas home. Most of the Texas folks I know are a strong and proud people, and rightfully so. So the phrase “Texas Strong” was not really all that surprising, though I was curious as to what it might refer to this time.
As I began to scroll just a little more it became quickly clear as to what that saying had referred to. A flooding, and a flash flood at that..
As I said before I don’t usually pay attention to the news. For the last four years or so it doesn’t really seem like news, just slanted views and agenda. Hardly worth any time at all. But now I was drawn in. Though not anywhere near this scope of magnitude, my own personal journey with child loss being due to the effects of drowning, I felt a small sense of connection to these families.
With the first few stories of rescue my heart leapt with a bit of joy. As each day began to pass with little to no word my heart grew heavier and heavier. My heart ached, weighing more and more for these mom’s and dad’s, siblings, grandparents and other family and friends, waiting at first with hope, then watching hope dwindling and fading. I remembered that feeling. Nearly twenty-five years ago for us, but triggers don’t care about time. That unwanted feeling came flooding back in. I hate that feeling..
There were all these girls from the campground. And there were families, up and down that river, in cabins, tents and RVs. Apparently an amazingly beautiful place to get back to nature. But floods don’t discriminate, not with place, not with person – not age, sex, race, gender. Not with creatures, and not with cover or housing type.
In those first two weeks I sat down five different times to write in this blog, and five different times my words were not right or not enough.
I could only take in the bits and pieces that came my way. Those few heart-warming, miraculous stories, then the heart-breaking stories. And even from people who, quite frankly, should have learned when to keep their mouths shut and opinions to themselves. I’ve never wished I could go throat punch someone before, but would have happily made an exception had I been anywhere in the vicinity of this woman when she said what she should not have said.
Each time I felt strongly in these moments of joy, sadness, tears and grief, or even anger and rage I would sit down to write. And each time I could not post what I had written.
While my own personal tragedy many years ago brings with it a sense of real caring, empathy, and grief.. this tragedy is not mine. This is not my story. It is theirs.
It was not my time or place to be in a position to be able to go and help, as much as I would wish to, and as little help as I would have been..
And as much as I would have relished the opportunity to throat punch that woman, that was not my place either. Though I do not know the outcome of that situation I do know it could not have come without cost to her. I honestly hope she realized the import of what she said and was truly remorse.
While I only have my tears and prayers to give, and will continue to do so, I am so grateful that there were many who were able to answer that call, to be able to be there physically to help and to support. Those who answered the call to rescue, and then later to recover. Those who cared for those who answered the call. Those who supported each of those families with loved ones found, missing or lost.
I know little about that community, except that they came together with an overwhelming amount of support and care with and for one another. With no agenda, and with no desire for self recognition they did what needed to be done, and continue to do so. They have embodied, above and beyond, what it is to be “Texas Strong”.
I can only hope that should the need ever arise near enough to be of help, that we each are able to offer up what is in our power to give. That we step in and help where it is needed. That we give of ourselves freely, and with no need or desire for recognition. That when it is our time or place, no matter how big or small the circumstances, we do all we can to see those needs are more than met.
Of Loss and Love 