Last Memorial Day weekend, with our two children tucked in for the night and card games commencing, everything began with a kind neighbor knocking to let us know that the water was expected to rise ‘a little’ on the Blanco River that night in Wimberley. Their concern was we should bring our camping chairs up to the house. We ran out in the rain and lightning to bring up our chairs, where we had been enjoying ourselves only just a bit earlier in the day. In between the constant weather alerts on my phone, I had a thoughtful neighbor friend keeping me in the loop with what was happening in our South Austin neighborhood and that we had some tree limbs down. Via text I expressed thankfulness for the updates. I also nonchalantly delivered the information that we were experiencing heavy rain and that the river was to rise a bit, but we were far from the water’s edge.
Cut to about two hours later when my mother-in-law came to our room to wake up my husband to express her concern about the weather and the water level that seemed to have easily surpassed the ‘little rise’ that we all were expecting. Being responsible, an alarm was set to check back in a couple hours with the general assumption that things would be better.
Cut to fifteen minutes later when my mother-in-law (who thankfully was so vigilant in the situation) came back to our room to let us know that the river had risen to the deck of our rental. All I remember hearing was we needed to head up to the roof. And I can honestly say, if ever in the history of EVER, that was the quintessential moment my role of mother was solidified. I ran to where my children were sleeping and threw an extra layer of clothes on them to make sure they were covered from the elements. My daughter, already awake from the commotion, was given strict instructions to not leave my side while I swooped up my son who was still asleep through all of the noise. With so much unknown, I was going to keep these children safe no matter what the cost.
My sister-in-law was clutch in remembering exactly where she had seen a ladder in a closet when we arrived at the house. My husband and brother-in-law, having just come from moving our cars to higher ground, were quick to grab the ladder while we trudged through the ankle-deep water that was already coming into the house. My mother-in-law grabbed a couple of blankets for us and we all started our surreal trek up the ladder onto the home’s tin roof. Yes, tin. As in metal. And the lightning was nonstop. And did I mention there were ten of us? Myself, my husband, my 5-year-old, my 6-year-old, my mother-in-law, my brother-in-law (who was in a brace due to recent ACL surgery), his 7-month pregnant wife, their 2-year-old son, my sister-in-law and her husband; all ten of us made it up the ladder and onto the roof of this house. We sat in the rain for almost 4 hours. Calls to 911 were without result because they were so inundated at the time. We heard the loud cracking of trees breaking under the sheer force of the water, we heard the large propane tank behind the house hissing under pressure. We yelled out on at least two different occasions because we saw lights and thought it might have been a rescue boat of some kind. But it wasn’t. The lights were coming from cars floating down the water and we could only hope that there was no one inside. We watched as the gazebo on the property (which served as a ruler of sorts to measure how high the water was coming up) was lifted off of its foundation and moved due to the raging water.
All of this happened while I put my two arms around my two little ones, my purpose in this world, and reassured their sleepy, confused selves that everything would be alright. I’ve never felt more like a fraud in my entire life because in the absolute darkness of what was happening around us, I was never more unsure of anything in my life. While we sat there helpless, with the water continually on the rise, my husband and his brother began to strategize our next moves if the water made it to the roof. When they began figuring out what trees we could cling to if need be, I’ll be honest- I wanted to vomit right then and there. I kept telling myself there is no way possible that things would get ‘that bad’.
Luckily for us, the third time we saw lights it wasn’t a vehicle floating away. This time it was a group of people coming to help. A house down the road that wasn’t located directly on the river was sending men out to look for people. This group of amazing men were able to get us all down from the roof and to a home down the road that took in numerous people in need that night. While they might not have had electricity or water themselves, they still managed to provide water, snacks and a safe haven away from the unbelievably raging waters. I couldn’t even tell you how many people they helped that Saturday night, but I do know they arrived and helped our family in a way I haven’t seen before. They gave me the ability to tell my two children with confidence that we WOULD be alright; a gift of impossible value. We slept in our car that night at the safe house and, with not more than 2 hours sleep and daylight on our side, we thanked the angelic people who rescued us from the roof. Fully recognizing that a ‘thank you’ and a hug was not nearly enough, we headed back to see what, if any, of our belongings remained.
Our group lost two cars and some material items in this ordeal but given the situation (and in comparison to how other families were impacted), anything of material value is irrelevant. Now, one year later, I experience a flood of a different sort; it’s a flood of absolute gratitude and thankfulness. I’m overwhelmed when reflecting on the kindness and concern of complete strangers and our great fortune a year ago. And it’s also quite reaffirming as a parent that when push comes to shove, you’ll do whatever you can to protect those you love most.
