Like A Flood
“Brad, promise me you won’t get mad,” I said into my pink razor phone. In the rear view mirror three little faces looked at their young mother trying to hold it together.
This is never the best way to start out a phone conversation we all know, but when an accident happens sometimes it just comes spilling out this way.
Brad was quiet for a moment, then in a calm voice he responded, “Ok, I promise, what happened Dianne.”
It was the day before my thirty-first birthday. We planned to celebrate it by taking a trip to visit Brad’s folks in Indiana. The van was packed. Our three children were strapped into their car seats. We were ready to leave town, I just had to pick Brad up from the Church.
We had only lived in the house on the top of the hill of the bustling 42nd Street for a few months. This would be our first time to get away from the new ministry work Brad had started in Cedar Rapids. We were excited until we heard on the news the Cedar River, which ran through the heart of the city, was in danger of overflowing its banks. Because of heavy snow fall across the state during the past winter, the river’s level had been rising dramatically. The power of its surge was gaining speed. Being new to the town we hadn’t given much thought to the river until now.
As alarm spread from home to home I too felt anxious by the news of the rushing waters. I had spent the morning frantically packing. I worried that if we didn’t leave soon we would be stuck in Cedar Rapids.
Our little house at the top of the hill had a very steep driveway going up to the one stall garage connected to our ranch style home. At some point previous owners had added a second driveway that wrapped around the tiny one stall garage leading to a second 2 stall garage behind the house. This was the deciding feature of the property for us, because Brad would finally have a gym in the small garage. I liked it because I could turn the van around behind the house and pull out into traffic instead of backing up onto the busy street. The only problem we could see in this set-up was the narrow driveway between the single car garage to the bigger cement pad behind the house. It was tricky to get the van around the corner of the attached garage and through to the other side, but we managed it.
The afternoon was humid. After hearing more reports of the ominous overflow I backed the van up to the big garage, the wide white door was shut and almost gleamed in my rear view mirror. I turned the front wheels slightly to drive through the narrow path between the attached garage and the neighbors chain link fence. But as I drove through the narrow passageway I heard a horrible scrapping noise as I realized I was too close to the garage. I stopped instantly and got out to see what I had done. The passenger’s side quarter panel had a dent and deep scratch stretching from the bumper to to the side sliding door.
I let out a yelp of self reprimand, reluctantly I called Brad.
During the short drive to the church I felt horrible. If only I had been paying closer attention, I thought. Regret and embarrassment began a shouting match in my head. How could I ruin our only good vehicle? I had no excuse. But when I picked up Brad from the church he walked around to the spot on the passengers side. He stood next to it for a few minutes studying the the damage. I couldn’t look for shame. Elaina tried to comfort me, “Mommy!” she said cheerfully, but I felt too low to smile.
Brad sat down in the driver's seat. I sat next to him with my eyes studying the hem of my jean shorts. Breaking the silence he said softly, “It's okay we can buff out the scratches.” To my relief, he didn’t mention it again. We drove out of Cedar Rapids over the bridge that would be closed a few hours after our escape.
The next day as we celebrated my birthday at a restaurant in Indiana we were surprised to see our city on National news. We watched Live footage of water gushing over the levees and spilling out over the whole downtown area ruining historical buildings, museums, and residential homes in its wake. The water crested the next day, June 13th, at a record breaking 31.12 ft.
The flood waters were destructive. The city had shut down the water supply for several days to try to fix the problems the flood had caused. Whole sections of the city had been condemned. Homes in the flood zone had piles of damaged belongings sitting out in their front yards. There was a lot of bad news to talk about. But it was more remarkable to see how so many in the city rose to action. Neighbors were helping neighbors and volunteers worked alongside those who were hit the hardest.
“There is no exercise better for the heart than reaching down and lifting people up”
After the waters receded, volunteers were needed to clean up, so I drove downtown to help. I was instantly repulsed by the foul odor in the air. The roads were caked with mud and no lights lit up the business district, it felt like a ghost town. The gray watermark left on trees and houses was a witness to the record breaking torrent. The city was rebuilt slowly, but not without the work of many hands. Churches had to be relocated. The beautiful library had been destroyed, so a temporary one was set up in the Mall. The families that were displaced because of the flood pulled at my heart the most. Unfortunately, many of those homes were condemned and bulldozed.
In light of all the loss around us I decided to forgive myself for scratching the van. It no longer seemed to matter compared to everyone else’s problems.
We all face times when situations come like a flood, unexpected. The death of a loved one, a diagnosis, a failed relationship can send each one of us rushing out of our comfort zones with cuts and bruises. In the shock of it all, it can feel difficult to unload the pain in a healthy way. We need others to come along side us in the aftermath of the unexpected. I will never forget how the people of Cedar Rapids stood as one to help each other.
It is awe inspiring to think of the good that can come out of a bad situation- like the flood of 2008.