The Unimaginable. How To Even Begin Again?
In preparing for this week’s column, I was searching for inspiration in the world of summertime. Especially for children, the free-spirited experiences of spontaneous play, collecting lightening bugs, or participating in summer camps create memories that can last a lifetime. I was generating creativity to write about such summer merriment, and then the torrential rains came and a river swelled. In the dark of night in Texas, devastation stilled the world. The Guadalupe River rose with a fury. As I write, the death toll is rising because of a massive flood, and images of utter ruin defy understanding.
On so many levels, there’s nothing to say. No words soothe the shattered hearts of parents who one day sent excited daughters off to overnight camp only to wake the next day to horror. Others in the midst of family vacations or camping get-aways were carried away by the fury of the water’s current. And still others watched as their homes became submerged by a violent rising tide. It all seemed to happen in an instant.
Such unexpected and obliterating natural disasters catapult all of us to a common place that begs compassion. Many of us spend so much time scrolling our way through news feeds and social media posts. It’s easy to become hijacked by the allure of life we design through our fingertips. But then, something terrible happens that transcends the folly of it all. Entire communities in Texas are reeling from destruction, and the shock of it all is still so fresh. In times like these, we just need to allow space as an offering of respect; a rest in silence to hear the cries of those who’ve lost, and pause because few of us really know how these Texans feel in this moment.
At the same time, resiliency and grit seem to go hand in hand with such awfulness. People tend to offer the best of humanity in the face of these natural disasters. Out of the woodwork come people with lifelines. From Texas over these past days, there are a multitude of reported stories of those who saved lives because they leaned into their ability to help. I heard an account of a young girl trying to run from the rising water as it hit chest level. She heard a voice from a nearby two story home yelling for her to come where tied up sheets could pull her to higher ground. She joined a multitude of others saved by a man in a tall house with some sheets. I think it fair to say the worse tragedies bring out the best in others. Communities bond, people come with water, blankets, and the only way through unimaginable grief; the ability and willingness to show up.
My prayer for those so deep in grief is that they can remain porous to moments of ordinary holiness that have the potential to penetrate into the deepest wells of despair. The path forward for those devastated by this flood is the simple but tortuous act of threading one moment to the next. I pray that grace will find them despite their shattered spirits. I know from living in Houston many years ago, Texas does everything big, including the ability to extend love and support to those in need. People are stronger than they think. No one asks for these times of unimaginable loss, but the ability and willingness for Texans to bond together is a very good way to begin threading the next days toward hope.
Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash