I’d like to take you on a visual journey through your own home. Start in your living room and imagine everything you own below the 5 feet level. Couch? Chairs? TV? Heirlooms? Pictures on the wall? Lamps? Video console? DVD player? Books?
Now walk into your kitchen and dining room. You probably have some big stuff like a fridge, stove, table and chairs. Maybe you have a hutch with special dishes in it. Think about what is in your cupboards: pots and pans, dishes, utensils, cookbooks, food, spices, towels and wash rags.
Do you have a laundry room? Then you probably have a washer and dryer with a bunch of clothes in that area. Do you have an office on your main floor? If so maybe it contains files of important papers. Maybe your office doubles as a craft or scrapbook area. Do you have a sewing machine? A computer and printer? Scrapbook supplies? Pens and paper? Where are your scrapbooks and pictures?
Do you have a front living room with a piano? How many bathrooms are in your house? What is in them? Toothpaste, deodorant, hair supplies, towels?
How many bedrooms do you have? What lies within them? Beds, nightstands, laptops? Journals? How about your closet? Obviously there are clothes, but do you have a change jar? A gun safe? Shoes?
Just picture ALL the stuff that is in your house. Now imagine it’s all gone. Buried in mud. Washed away. Gone. If you can grasp that, then you will begin to understand what these families are going through.
On Day 6– Monday, I decided to deliver some chips and salsa to the families. As a confession, up to this point I really had not done much by the way of service. I hadn’t shoveled any mud or hauled anything out of a house. I had been taking pictures. And I was overwhelmed. You see, even cleaning my own house overwhelms me at times. I think it’s something in my personality, but I really have to be in the mood to deep clean a specific area like my garage or pantry. I get anxiety thinking about those places that have become out of control. So for me to walk down into this mess of mud and muck really did overwhelm me. I would look around and not even have a clue where to begin. I became VERY appreciative for those who could just see what to do and do it instead of freezing in bewilderment and taking pictures.
I realized that I was not alone. As I visited with different friends, they, too, had felt the same way that night. They were so grateful for those who could just take a shovel and start somewhere.
The other thing that was difficult for me was to know WHO to help. For some reason, it always felt like if I helped one friend, then I was letting another down. Bear in mind many of these people that were hit were not only friends, but family, too….cousins of mine. I wished I could do something to help the masses. As I rode around helping deliver laundry with Robbin, I became aware of a couple of things. First, I realized that most of these people had not even left their homes for days. If their upstairs was ok, then they slept there. If they couldn’t stay in their home, they slept with family or friends, but were right back early. Those first few days you could hardly get a car in and out because of all the people, trucks, tractors, dumpsters and mud. There were a few of families– the Cloward’s, Aikens, and Gubler’s who had set up tables and a food area for volunteers. Food was being brought in for everyone. But the homeowners really couldn’t leave. They were having to tell people what to keep and what to throw away. Trying to salvage anything they could. Eating would only happen if someone BROUGHT it to them. And many did. Food and cases of water bottles were left at every home.
The other thing I realized was that all the help was going to die off and there was still going to be a lot to do. I didn’t want them to think they were forgotten. And since I have a salsa business, I thought I’d drop off some chips and salsa to them for lunch or a snack. Truth is….I felt guilty AGAIN…. I should be dropping by to wash stuff off or help put something away or clean their upstairs which were loaded with stuff that was being cleaned. It’s hard when you have to go to work and can’t devote all the days and hours you’d like. So I took the easy way out and delivered chips and salsa to those who were home.
But this day was a day of tears. As I went into the homes to hand them chips and salsa and give them a hug, a similar theme seemed to happen. Most every home had one or two people there helping them with the little stuff. Most of them said, ‘here look at my basement.” Most every one just randomly began to tear up.
It’s interesting when a crisis happens how you can just dig in and do what you have to do. You go into an automatic mode of working and solving the problem at hand. But when all the people leave and there is still much to do and you have time to reflect on what was lost– the memories, the work, the life you had–then you just begin to tear up a little. Randomly. Out of the blue. Tears just start to come. And that is what I experienced on Monday. I don’t know if they were tears of sadness per se. There were tears of gratitude, too. The more I have thought about it, I have realized that it is a combination of both. It’s like the emotion has filled your body and when it gets to your eyeballs, like a flood ;o), it just comes oozing out…randomly.
I’d like to share with you a few of the stories that I experienced that day and some during the week. I still stand all amazed.
Tears flow freely and easily for me now. I hope you’ll enjoy the stories of these amazing, wonderful people and those hundreds who came to help– those angels here that have come to rescue and aid their fellowmen.
Imagine my gratitude when I was asked to serve on the board to help with rebuilding. No, you’re not done hearing from me yet. ;o)
And if you feel so inclined to donate or help these families financially so they can get back on their feet, please click here.