In 1994, the north Houston area suffered a life-rending flood. A group from our church went over on Saturday to help clean our a house of a friend. The water level was over five feet, soaking all the home’s contents, and even ruining the walls.
When my husband returned home about dusk, he was bone weary and sick at heart. These were good friends, and he shared their broken hearts.
His comment when I asked him what was wrong was, “I just spent the day carrying their lives out to the street in a wheelbarrow. . . ” There was a long pained pause.
The next day we worked together to design a T-shirt to sell to generate some funds for the many striken families. We wanted to express how people pulled together as a community to help each other, blinking back tears and gratefully gulping any snacks which were offered.
As we struggled with what to say in a few words we finally settled on: “Texans Bailed Each Other Out of the Great Flood of ’94”. They were sold locally and the proceeds went to Interfaith of the Woodlands flood relief fund.
It was only a drop in a bucket, but we had to do something.
This is how I heard one gal was telling me about her experience:
We heard our alarm, never thinking of harm.
Till my mom hollered flood.
Her voice sounded like blood.
We used to be fine, but now we are poor.
We’re wearing what we wore last week, before water came to ruin our floor.
Our clothes, beds, and things are wet. Our lives are soggy too!
It ruined the neighbor girl’s Winnie the Pooh.
We don’t know what we’ll ever do!
Copyright by Hildra Tague. Obtain permission for use online or in print.