Around the Bluhmin’ Town

By

Judy Bluhm

Horror. Shock. Loss. Sorrow. The four horsemen of terror in the Texas flooding. We cannot unsee these images of devastation. We won’t look away from those photos of the faces of smiling young campers, with so much potential and life to live. God, why did the river rise and take away so much?

We are bound together by the forces of nature, and we struggle to find words of comfort. Perhaps with divine intervention we will understand and accept the precariousness of this world. Or maybe not. Life’s circumstances can be like a wrecking ball of destruction, shattering everything in its path, even our faith.

I called my nine-year-old granddaughter last week. She was launching a lemonade stand and I asked her how things were going. “I am shook,” she replied. When I asked her what was wrong, she said, “Grandma, don’t you know the news? Little girls like me were at a camp and were swept away in a flood. And none of this should have happened!” So true.

The pundits, politicians, government officials, meteorologists and emergency personnel all have something to say about this recent tragedy. The blame has started, fingers are pointed, tempers are flaring, and analysis is non-stop. It is normal to want to find answers on what precautions could be taken next time. But right now, there are victims to locate, families to help, and heroes to honor. And mourning to do.

Rescue. Recovery. Two simple words. The meaning is miles apart. Rescue gives us hope, which often occurs in the darkest hour of disaster. Recovery gives us closure, bringing home the newly departed souls. It takes incredible effort and resources to achieve a rescue and recovery mission. In the midst of our greatest tragedies, it is the courage of men and women forming the human chain of compassion that carriers each of us to higher ground.

There are videos of emergency responders holding a long rope, dozens of them, standing in a line along the riverbank. The rescuers in the river are trying to save a woman who is thrashing around in the flood waters. Two men were able to get a harness around her as the waters rage around them. A man yells, “pull.” And the tugging begins, a precarious and heart-stomping ten minutes of struggle to get her out of the water.

“Pull” is the metaphor for the force of humanity that will use every possible ounce of energy to save those in harm’s way. No wall of water, fire, crash, hurricane or tornado will stop us when we pull together. In our own lives, we “pull” for the ones who need us most. We volunteer, donate clothes, food, money, and time to those less fortunate. We pray. “Pull” is the battle cry to do the best we can, given the tools we have, in the circumstances that we are handed. Every single day.

Storms wreak havoc. It’s what happens next that defines us. We cannot look away from suffering. We will rush into the waters to “pull” and risk everything to do so. And we will do it again and again. One tug at a time.

Judy Bluhm is a writer and a local realtor. Contact Judy at [email protected] or visit www.aroundthebluhmintown.com.