flood

When I asked my parents to ship my work boots down to Music City in March, I never suspected that I would end up using them more in Nashville than in Guatemala. (I actually didn't even take them with me to Guatemala).

The last three days (and again tomorrow) I've headed out into suburbia Nashville to help with flood recovery. It's a mess. Lives have been lost, tangible memories are soggy or destroyed, and my heart aches for all of it.

I've helped a co-worker save pictures from his flooded basement, torn up a hardwood floor at a stranger's house. Today I choked back tears as I helped an 85 year old woman salvage cards and pictures that her husband hadn't even signed before he died three years ago. I ripped out soggy drywall and tossed it into a heaping pile at another house.

Someone asked me today if this is what I ever expected to do during my YAV year. I laughed at the time, and answered that no, this was not on my list of expectations. Now I say no with a lump in my throat as I allow my thoughts and feelings to settle. It certainly has been a year full of the unexpected. And this flood and consequential devastation, as well as recovery work in my own city, was (and continues to be)on the top of my "totally unexpected" list.

I wish I could better articulate what I've been seeing and feeling. I don't know if it is a limited vocabulary or an overwhelming sense of emotion on my part. All I know for certain is that this city that I love is suffering.