Posts Tagged 'disaster'

“How Long Can You Tread Water?” (Corrected)

(The original post referred to Bill Cosby as “late”. Thankfully, I was reminded that he’s old but still very much alive and therefore no more “late” than any of the rest of us. Maybe I’ll make it up by writing about Cosby soon. If you’re young enough to have missed him in his prime, I encourage you to check him out on YouTube or other sources.)

 

Sixteen days ago Dianna and I arrived back in the US after our trip-of-a-lifetime visit to China. Walking through LAX, I turned on my cell phone and found two messages. One was a voicemail from a sheriff’s deputy about “a water issue” in our home in Arizona. The other was a text message from our daughter in Las Vegas: “Everybody’s fine, everything’s OK. Call me as soon as possible.” I flash-prayed that both messages addressed the same disaster. They did. A hard freeze had hit Northern Arizona on Veterans’ Day weekend. A water line had broken and sprayed water all over the attic. The water drained down through the ceiling into the main part of the house, down the stairs into the basement, and through the top floor onto the basement ceiling which mostly collapsed. A neighbor saw water running out the door of the walkout basement and called the sheriff. He entered the house, discovered The Flood, and found our daughter’s phone number on the refrigerator. When Karin (our youngest) heard about the “water issue”, she called her big brother Paul (our oldest). He and his wife Paula fiercely threatened their teenagers regarding any inappropriate behavior during their absence, then drove the 250 miles from their home to ours. They found the “water issue’s” super-soggy mess. More important, they found our insurance papers, called our agent, and got the cleanup process started. Paul and Paula boxed up “anything that looked important” in terms of papers and files, as well as winter clothes (for the season that’s taking its sweet time to arrive this year). Our kids decided not to call us in China and ruin the trip, since we couldn’t have done anything anyway. We have great kids—including our other son David who stayed warm and dry in his home in Maine!

When we stepped off the plane (midway through our 40-hour Saturday that began in Shanghai), it was time to deal with The Flood. Monday morning we saw our home for the first time. Nobody had exaggerated.  While clearly of sub-biblical proportions, The Flood was still very bad. Every room of our large house except our bedroom suffered major damage. We met with the three(!) insurance adjusters and the cleanup crew (very caring and professional). We began learning the rules of the insurance system that has suddenly become our new reality. We discovered that we’d be out of the house up to SIX MONTHS during reconstruction. We’d been talking about remodeling and clearing out clutter, but not this way!

Somewhere in this nightmare I began hearing a voice in my head. (Yes, it’s enough to make you crazy, but this was memory, not mental illness!) I heard the great Bill Cosby’s classic “Noah” routine. The only explanation Noah  offers his curious neighbors for the boat in his front yard is, “How long can you tread water?” Later, when the project gets too hard and Noah complains, the exasperated LORD rumbles, “Noah—How long can you tread water?”

That’s what we’re doing these days—treading water. Not literally, thank God. But spiritually and emotionally we’re just trying to stay afloat. Everything’s harder. Everything takes longer. Daily routines are disrupted.  We’re learning how to do things without most of our useful, familiar, comfortable stuff. Best case, it’s in one of three large storage containers in our yard. Worst case, it was ruined and tossed in the dumpster. We’ve gone from a couple of nights with generous church friends to staying with our kids (which we’d planned to do at Thanksgiving anyway) to a few nights in a motel and now a rented home about 3 miles from the site of The Flood. We’re grateful for both good friends and good insurance! Two weeks after our return, we had our first home-cooked meals in the place that we’ll call home for a while. Maybe we’ll call this place “The Ark”!

“How long can you tread water?” Not very long all alone with no land in sight. But as long as we need to “with a little help from our friends”. We’re aware of lots of people in lots of places praying with and for us. We’ve heard from friends who had a similar experience recently. As I mentioned, some generous church friends contacted us as soon as they heard of our situation and invited us to stay with them. Their hospitality was helpful and greatly appreciated. They also let us stash stuff at their place. When we moved into our rental this week, the “muscle” from Chino Valley UMC–the guys who move chairs and tables and do most of the hard work–showed up to do an all-day job in a couple of hours.

Our other church family–Green Valley UMC, our daughter and son-in-law’s church in So. Nevada–helped more than they know just by being themselves and doing what they do. We left Southern California  early on Sunday morning after our return to see and thank our children in Las Vegas. “I need to go to church today,” Dianna said. We drove straight to the church. We found what we needed. We were cared for and healed. (Not fed. I have a problem with folks going to church to be “fed”, but that’s a separate issue.) The next Sunday, after Thanksgiving with our family, we were back because we both needed and wanted to be there. Green Valley UMC consistently provides focused, creative, thoughtful, welcoming worship. They know folks come every week in the midst of living through all sorts of issues—even treading water! We’re grateful for their ministry.

I told someone God’s sense of humor is absolutely out of control this time. Dianna and I don’t believe God burst that pipe in our attic. We do, however, believe Paul’s wisdom in Romans 8:28 (CEV): “We know that God is always at work for the good of everyone who loves him.” I’ll keep you informed as we discover the ways that happens for us. Consider this post the first in an intermittent series. Perhaps we’ll call it “Flood Journal”—or maybe “Treading Water”.


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