Flooded
I am grateful today for the flood of varied emotions that have come my way in recent days—grateful to experience each one for what it is—genuine and raw.
We were in southeast South Dakota and northwest Iowa a few days ago. Rain was hitting already saturated ground. Rivers were rising and roads were closing. We avoided the worst of it, but were literally only hours ahead of it in places. We spent time in Spencer, Iowa midday on Friday. I lived there for six years early in my teaching career, from 1992-98. It is where I was living when my recovery from alcoholism really started to blossom and take shape. And where I was living when I met my husband Darcy in November 1997. It’s a special place in my life’s history, in my story.
On Friday, the river was swollen, but we walked across the bridge over the Little Sioux River and enjoyed a stroll down Grand Avenue. We also enjoyed lunch at a restaurant right along the river in a refurbished church. We walked past the apartment building I had lived in, through East Leach Park nearby. I smiled as I saw the Dairy Queen across Highway 71. I definitely made more than a few trips there over six years .
We had started our visit to Spencer at Riverside Cemetery, to stop at the gravesite of my friend Elli. She died of cancer at the age of 55 in December. I hadn’t been able to attend her funeral, so I wanted to pay my respects.
We appreciated our time in Spencer, then we went on our way. I was feeling a mix of emotions as we left Spencer and drove through Milford, Arnold’s Park, and Okoboji. We stopped in Spirit Lake and spent more time walking around between rain showers. More rain came as we drove back into Minnesota.
We were heading home Saturday morning when we started catching the news about what had happened in Spencer. Barely eighteen hours after we left, the Little Sioux River had risen far faster and higher than anyone anticipated. The bridge we had walked across was closed and partially submerged. My old apartment building was flooded, with people trapped on upper floors. And this is what my favorite Dairy Queen looked like:
People had to be rescued by boat, many leaving their homes not knowing when they would be back and what they would find when they arrived. I know families directly impacted by these floodwaters. Multiply that number many times over in many other areas of Iowa, South Dakota, Minnesota and around the country. Our lives can change in an instant or in a few hours. For the better, or for the worse.
I had another flood of emotions last evening, and tears flowed— for the loss of lives and livelihoods, treasured items, and a sense of normal that some people won’t find back for quite awhile. I also had a flood of humble grace and love as I read about the outpouring of support for flood victims. People I know are helping other people I know. And strangers are helping strangers. We made a couple of financial contributions. I would be there helping clean up or filling sandbags, but my life is here now.
It feels a little helpless to be here, taking the news in, but then I am reminded that I can always be kind and generous in my own backyard, my own community, my own interactions with others today. A trickle of hope returns and soon a stream of good energy is flowing again. Onward!
