The rainstorm the third week of July this summer, seemed actually quite nice at the time. I woke up around 11:00 because I had heard a lot of thunder and lightning, and decided to wander downstairs to our big picture window in the living room to watch for a while. I LOVE the rain, probably because I learned to love the big rainstorms in Texas while we were there. I love the way it makes me feel warm and cozy in my house. I love the way it smells. I love the way it makes everything look fresh. I love the sound of cars driving by, and hearing the water splash up. Anyway, Grandma Hema came out and sat on the couch with me and we watched the big sheets of water pour out of the dark night sky, and enjoyed the lightning show. After nearly an hour, we decided that if the kids hadn't woken up from the extremely loud thunder yet, they weren't going to, so we both went back to bed.
The next morning, the kids were up early, as usual. I wandered downstairs to the basement around 6:20 to get some laundry going before getting breakfast for the kids. The light for the basement is at the top of the stairs, and usually I don't turn it on when I am doing laundry, I just wander into the dark laundry room and turn on the little light in there with the pull-chain. Only this time as I got close to the bottom of the stairs, I could see that something was different down there, and I could smell it, too. I ran back up the stairs, turned on the light, then went back down to survey the damage.
Besides the fact that the kids had left toys out everywhere the night before, it doesn't look too bad, until you realize that everything is floating. Even the rug. And, judging by the water marks we found on the walls and the furniture, the water had actually receded a bit (to 12 inches from 16) by the time I found it. Nice.
Did I mention the smell? Well, let me just say that it wasn't pleasant. This was not just your ordinary, run-of-the-mill flood, where water seeps in through a crack, or a window well. Oh no. Because the rain had come so hard and so fast, the amount of water had overwhelmed the storm drains/sewer pipes, and because our home is so old, of course it is not up to current building codes, and it has no back flow prevention device, so the sewage just came right back up the floor drain and into our basement. That's right folks, POOP water in our basement. And John was gone. And pretty much all of the kids toys and books live down there because there is no room in their bedrooms. And all of our food storage.
I called John, who happened to be on his way to the temple in Oklahoma City. I managed to remain pretty calm, probably partially due to the fact that I felt a little comforted that he was going to the temple, and could put in some prayers for me. After I hung up, I did what every self-respecting, independent woman, left to her own devices during the middle of a semi huge crisis does. I cried. Then I found John's rubber work boots, and went to work, wading around in the POOP water, rescuing things that had not touched the water, and handing them to my waiting kids to carry up the stairs and into the living room.
Later that day, my home teacher showed up, and while Grandma Hema took the little kids to get some lunch and play on the playground out of the way, Isaac, Brother Welch and I carried up the rest of the things that could be salvaged. We spent the rest of the afternoon bleaching the few things we could save.
The next morning, a cleaning crew came, threw out everything else, and stripped the walls and insulation. Because it was sewage, anything that was touching the water was just thrown out. Even food that was in boxes, like cereal and pasta, that was not touching the water, had to be tossed.
This is what our pile of trash looked like a few days later. It actually was bigger than this, but people kept coming and picking through it. You would think that they would be able to smell it, and have the sense to just leave it. The kids and I tried several times to run out and explain to people that it had been in POOP water, (the kids actually thought it was good fun to watch out the windows until somebody pulled over, open the front door and start yelling "It was in POOP water!!!! POOP Water!!!) but they would just wait until we left, and take it anyway.
Things I am grateful for:
1. We lost a lot, but no one was hurt. Just a few weeks earlier, I had seen the devastation from a massive F5 tornado that had ripped through Joplin, Missouri and had killed so many. So I was so grateful that even though we lost a lot, we would all be fine.
2. Great home teachers and visiting teachers who came and helped, and didn't just call and ask what they could do to help. I don't like asking for help, so when it just showed up, I was very grateful.
3. Grandma Hema, who remained calm, cool, and collected, even when I wasn't. And the fact that we could laugh together about the clueless fix-it man, who our landlord hired, who walked in the POOP water with bare feet, was an added bonus. And the fact that she thought I was calm, cool and collected when I didn't yell at him when he said the water came through the windows, was an added bonus.
4. The promptings of the Spirit, which led John to add flood insurance to our renters insurance policy last year, and then again led him to increase those flood coverage limits later on that year.
5. A husband who listened. Both to my crying, whining and complaining, and to the Spirit. Thank you.
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