Sometimes the lessons in life flood in literally and figuratively, so we don’t miss the point. I was getting ready for a trip to Buffalo, had just finished cutting the grass and was making dinner. I beat the rain and it came down in buckets; so much so that my sister Susie was inundated with texts saying, “Check your basement for water.”
News reported that flash flood waters on Brookpark Road, a nearby main street, were so high, cars were stalling out. Images were like one of those Jeep Grand Cherokee commercials that shows cars floating through like boats only to get to the other side and manage to keep going. These cars weren’t so lucky. The videos showed them stuck due to waterlogged engines. Some businesses closed down due to floods.
Neighbors checked in with one another. Our neighbors across the street didn’t have any problems. Dumb luck for us, I guess. Our drain under the washtub basin was gushing water and bubbling like a small Icelandic geyser.
A panic button was hit. “Get more shop vacs to soak up the water, we need more mops, buckets and squeegees, fans and dehumidifiers to dry this place out.” We started to lift things off the floor and save the things we could. We called for the reserves and my other sister, her husband and my two nieces came to our rescue. I walked outside and watched as the drain continued to take in water, and I could hear the trickling intake being overwhelmed.
We came up with fantastic ideas that would never work and the things we should’ve done to prepare for the inevitability of this event mocked us as we looked helplessly on and my sister tried to plunger the hole with a mop. As I lifted some of the storage containers, I wondered what was in there and asked myself, “do we really need this?” Is it worth the effort?
No matter what we tried to do, it would never be enough to stop the flood waters from coming.
When the rain stopped and the water receded, we were relieved. I tried to do too much. I felt my back tighten up. I was in such a hurry I wasn’t lifting with my legs and everything stopped. It felt like my upper body was detached from my lower body and the ache had me hunched over and walking gingerly.
I couldn’t drive to Buffalo and tried to stretch my hamstrings as much as possible and worked the exercises a physical therapist taught me. I soaked in a tub and took the Tylenol every so many hours. Although I tried to help where I could, I worried that too much would send me back to square one and I would be no help at all, so I took it easy while my sister carried a heavy load of the burden.
My guilt got the better of me. I started to spiral into self-pity. When you’re not feeling well, all things tend to come to the surface and present themselves as greater obstacles than they really are. I am useless. I can’t seem to get ahead. I’m going nowhere in life… Blah, blah, blah…
When a hardship strikes some of us have a tendency to pile on with other reminders of what is not right in our lives like the geyser spewing storm water. We look at all the negatives and throw it on the bonfire of reality. Is this a coping mechanism? Is this a form of disposing of the subconscious mind by ridding one’s self of it through an unconscious means?
Eventually I was able to help. As I was cleaning up, I thought about historic events and people who were helpless against their circumstances. I thought about the poor saps who lived through the plagues during the time of Exodus. What did they do that would warrant so much trouble? It was the injustice of the pharaoh that caused so many problems for them. The same could be said for Job. It was situations out of his control.
I arrived at the conclusion that the true reality of suffering resides in the fact that God’s presence is witnessed in those who comfort us during our times of suffering. It is the presence of others that works the magic of healing. We know that we can endure because we are not alone. We know that someone is there to remind us that everything will work out. We’re reminded that everyone has suffered in his own right and as long as we’re alive it will work itself out.
Our faith is tested at times. Patience is tested. Fortitude is tested. Resilience is tested. Our humanity is tested sometimes. We can wrap up all these tests into one ball of yarn, throw them in the sewing kit and slowly unthread it and apply it to the well-worn days that need repair. Choose the virtue that fits the color from the sewing kit of adventures, repair it and move on. When you’re in the middle of it, though, it feels like it is irreparable and no soothing words or faithful cliché will be adequate to suit the pain.
Hurricane Ida recently moved into the southern states of Florida and Georgia. Visuals showed houses submerged in water some well beyond the first story windows. People were canoeing through streets to help others get to safety. I can only imagine the self-doubt and pain people are experiencing – how helpless they must feel at this time as they regroup and re-evaluate.
Religion is not an intellectual activity it is a lived reality. Torrential downpours are going to come. What we do to help others in their time of distress is the only real meaning that comes from such adversity. Picking up the pieces of your history, saving what you can that is most valuable to you, rebuilding lives is what it’s all about. Empathy and compassion can go a long way in reclaiming hope.
No doubt there are people working through the devastation in the South that has ravaged their lives. Hopefully, those struggling will be able to see what’s important and rebuild their lives knowing they have the support of others.
spirit beat 