>You’re Changing Lives. Yep. You.
>Enough time has passed now since Nashville’s 1000-year flood last month that it’s starting to feel like things are returning to normal.
The mounds of trash ripped from flooded homes and dumped outside all have been picked up, sorted, and taken to the dump. The bridges and washed out roads have been repaired. The dried mud has been washed away by subsequent rains.
In many parts of town, it’s easy to pretend like nothing has happened. Drive down to Harpeth Bend, though, and it’s anything but normal.
Everyone whose home was damaged by floodwater has it rough, have no doubt, but there’s a special place in my heart for the families who live in this particular neighborhood.
Most of the homes there are one level, so when the waters started rising, the residents didn’t have anywhere to take their things except out the front door.
This is how the Nashville flood worked for most of its victims- On a Sunday morning, they noticed the water was creeping closer to their homes. Neighbors quickly alerted neighbors and everyone moved their cars up the street a few hundred feet, to higher ground.
When they got back, the water had gone inside their homes and was up to their knees. They grabbed what they could and made another trip out.
When they returned again, the water was up to their waists. They made another trip out with whatever they could carry. For those who dared to return for another trip, the water was up to their chests. The current was strong. Rats and snakes were swimming through the muddy water and more than one person I know got bitten while trying to get to higher ground.
As you can imagine, those without a second floor pretty much lost everything. In Harpeth Bend alone, more than 100 homes fit that description.
And so, while I have a long list of flooded families whose names were given to me by friends, acquaintances, and churches, and I’ve been getting your gift cards to them over the last few weeks, every Saturday, my family and I drive to Harpeth Bend and look for a few families to spontaneously gift with your cards. It is clearer than clear that they need those cards as much as anyone.
Most of the residents work all week long at their jobs, and then spend all day Saturday and Sunday in the hot summer sun, trying to restore their gutted houses. We saw one older man resting in a chair in the shade of his carport. He looked beat. I handed my husband an envelope. Hubs went out and introduced himself, and as it turned out, he’d interviewed the man, a crime scene investigator, several years ago. They talked for a while about the flood. “You have no idea what this is like until you’ve lived through it,” the man said. “I am completely exhausted. I work and work and work and work and work.“
We gave another envelope of cards to a family with three small children playing outside.
And then I saw an older woman step out of a small camper that was parked in front of her flooded home.
“Let’s give her one,” I told my husband. Many families have rented or borrowed campers to live in while their home is under construction. I could only imagine how uncomfortable and cramped that has to be as temperatures soar into the nineties. I went up to the woman and introduced myself, then told her I had a website with readers from across the country who’d sent gift cards to let her and other flood victims know that they cared about her. “The gift cards are from people in New York and New Mexico and California and all over the place,” I said. “And they’re all thinking about you and praying for you.”
She looked at me for a moment and then burst into tears.
She couldn’t talk for a long time, but when she did, she thanked me profusely. She hugged me and I thought she’d never let go. Then she held onto my hand for a long time. “Please come back, later,” she said. I knew exactly what she meant. I’ve heard it so many times from those who’ve received your gift cards over the last few weeks. When you lose everything and you’ve never had to accept kindness from others before, you want with all your heart to repay that person somehow when you’re back on your feet, whether you have them over for dinner or offer them free rounds of golf at the course where you have a job. I get it. I’m sure you get it, too.
By the time I left, I was crying right along with her. I have been so moved by what you all have done- You have no idea what a difference you’re making for these families, not only monetarily, but emotionally. The dollar amount is wonderful, of course, but the real impact I see is on these victims’ hearts. I’ve heard it over and over again after this flood, from people with vastly different beliefs- With your random acts of kindness to complete strangers, you’re showing them God.
I received this card in the mail just yesterday:
Dear Lindsay,
You will never know how much these gift cards mean to me. In the terrible flood aftermath, I felt all hope was lost. It is at times like these that I feel God’s goodness through his people. You and your readers are truly his helpers and I do appreciate you so much. May God bless you and your readers always.
Do you get how this is rocking my world?
Life goes on, small worries abound, and fashion’s still my passion, but everything’s different.
Everything.
And while of course I hope that these families are able to rebuild quickly, in the hearts of the people of Nashville and Middle Tennessee, at least, I hope that things never really get ‘back to normal’ again.
Got gift cards? So far, you’ve helped 41 43 families (!!!), but I’ve still know of more who need them. E-mail me at suburban.turmoil@yahoo.com and I’ll tell you where to send them.
