Dear Houston, with Love from One Flood Survivor to Another.

 

Dear Houston,

I have been soberly watching the news and seeing the reports coming in from your state. I have stayed relatively silent on social media about this tragedy because I remember.

I remember sandbagging dikes as a 13-year-old.

I remember the threat, which felt like an empty threat, but we prepared anyways–or thought we were.

I remember the evening they came around in the military trucks yelling from a bull horn to get out.

I remember being scared and confused as I watched my parents make painful decisions about what to grab before we left.

I remember getting into a truck that was packed to the brim full of whatever we could grab–which didn’t feel like much.

I remember taking a look at my beautiful little home — our first together as a blended family — and not knowing it would be my last.

I remember the night in the school, sleeping on a cot and the tears and the news crews. I remember praying and asking God why this was all happening.

I remember being evacuated from that school because the water had risen and we were no longer safe. I remember having to leave our pets behind at a local shelter, praying they would be safe as we fled the city.

I remember staying in a stranger’s home, and then a camper on my Great Aunt’s farm–5 of us and a few dogs.

I remember going to the Red Cross and getting our vouchers so that we could have clothes and toothpaste, and the things a normal person needs to survive.

I remember the agony on my parents’ faces as they would come back from trying to get to our house but were unsuccessful. The water was still too high. Our shed was halfway across the neighborhood.

I remember the day I saw the house. We couldn’t go inside because it was full of mold and spores.

I remember the pain and the great, searing loss I felt as we were relocated to a temporary FEMA trailer until we finally found a home 30 miles North. I lost my school, my friends, my home, and so, so much more in that flood.

I remember it all, my friends. I mean it when I say, “I know exactly what you’re going through.” I have been there. If anyone can understand the pain and grief you are feeling, it is me and my family. And we are here to tell you that we are so very, very sorry that this has happened to you. I don’t know what you have lost in this flood. I don’t know if you lost anyone that you loved. But I do know that there is a God that sees you and He’s not going to leave your side. You might be mad at Him right now, and that’s okay. He can handle that. But I want to encourage you not to harden your heart.

I want to encourage you to try to keep your heart soft and to see the good that is happening around you. You might have to really look for it, but it’s there.

I want to encourage you to see the faces of the people that are helping you. Right now you’re probably experiencing all the stages of grief, and anger is the easiest one. But these people are here to love you and to help you get through this horrible, horrible tragedy. Let them love you. Feel that love right now wherever you are. Be brave and just ask them for a hug. You need it, I know you do.

I want to encourage you to cry. To get angry (in a safe place, and not taken out on anyone else). I want to encourage you to feel all the things you need to feel. Don’t stuff them down deep inside because you need to survive. You do, but you can get out of this thing in tact emotionally if you would just let yourself feel all of it.

I want to encourage you not to let fear take over. It’s going to be a challenge. Right now you may be faced with nothing, and wondering how in the world you will be able to rebuild, if at all. But please, don’t be tempted to hoard because of the fear. I walked away from my experience as a hoarder because I was so afraid I would lose everything again. Don’t worry friends. Even if you do lose it all again, you can still rebuild. Feel the loss of your things, but don’t see it as the eternal loss. There is more for you my friend. It is coming. So don’t worry about hanging onto whatever you can find; the Lord is going to take care of you. I’m here to tell you that I know that now.

I’m here to tell you that you’re going to be okay. No, really. You really are going to be okay. It’s going to work out. Maybe not the way you want it to, or that you hope it will, but it’s going to come together. Watch for His provision. Watch how He does it. Don’t lose hope.

And one last thing… One of the best things you can do is not turn your heart away from the people around you. Turn your heart towards them. Grieve together. Help them. Because when you help them, you are inadvertently helping yourself. It will help you get out of your head for a little bit so that you can have a chance to breathe and maybe even think clearly. It will give you a chance to see a little glimmer of hope again. There is healing for you on the other side of this.

Lots of deep breaths. Lots of refocusing. Lots of choosing to believe the good, even when you’re surrounded by the bad.

But you can do this.

We love you, Houston.

Be brave.
~Nikki

More photos of our loss in 1997: