"Nashville Is Rising" | Personal Reflection

For anyone who has stumbled by here this week, thanks to links from ThirtySomethingBride and Nashvillest, I appreciate you taking the time to read our story. Our story which is, now in perspective, only really plagued by what was the small beginning to a pretty significant issue - and its after-effects - on our area.

It was hours and hours before the Cumberland River crested on Monday evening at more than twelve feet above flood level. The images taken during that day, when it seemed as though Downtown Nashville was about to be swallowed whole, were deeply saddening. After just a couple of days of news coverage of this city I love sitting in a pool of chocolatey-milk-like floodwaters, I had to see it with my own eyes.

My entire drive into Downtown on Wednesday, it felt as though my heart was stuck inside my throat. I was nervous.

Confused.

Awestruck.













And now? Hopeful.

Because as my neighbors and friends and complete strangers have proved, this place isn't the Volunteer State for nothing. You can't help but feel hope and pride when someone like Anderson Cooper comes to your town and tells the whole world "The thing that's different is that I've never seen so many people respond so quickly to help their neighbors.... It's incredible to see so many people helping. It's a great reflection on Nashville."

The mantras and sayings and rallying calls that have gone out over this area, not much unlike those that come out of other disaster areas, have been something to hang your hat on. That, my friends, is for sure.

And as Anderson so eloquently put it last night ...the water is falling, and Nashville is rising.

This Is Our Home | Personal Reflection

There are moments when this just doesn't seem real. When I feel like I'm watching newscasts about some other place far away, and not the streets I drive down everyday or the people I pass in the grocery aisles, shake hands with on Sunday mornings, and sit next to in coffee shops.

But it is. This is our home.

Saturday, it felt as if our whole world was being upended as the creek in the rear of our neighborhood rose to levels we've never seen before. Joining with the street it parallels, that creek took on the life of a river and continued to rise, burying our neighbors' homes in feet of water.



For us, not more than a hundred yards away, the danger seemed increasingly real. Then, even more so when we looked out the front of our home and saw that water, which had made its way from the hilly neighborhood across the street, was now rushing down across our street and towards us into our front yard.

In a scramble, we put everything at ground-level to greater heights, threw a hodge-podge of personal belongings and toiletries into a bag, called our neighbors to offer caution or help or advice, and got in our vehicles headed up the ridge and presumably to safety at the second-story condo of a great friend. Meanwhile leaving our first home, so very precious to us, behind with so much uncertainty regarding its fate.

And in, what for us was a magnificent turn of events, the waters around our home had receded by the close of that evening and with the help of our friend the local emergency official, it was determined we could go back. We could go home. And the sheer joy we felt as we walked in the study, the only room at ground-level, and felt that the carpet was utterly and entirely dry... I can't even begin to tell you what that was like.



But I have since been stunned, over and over again, watching as Saturday rolled into Sunday and it happened all over again. This time, without our temporary evacuation and now the resolve to see it through as long as we could. But more than that, stunned watching as people all over this area - people in neighborhoods not even a mile from here and so many miles from here... lose so much, if not everything.













Last evening, after the greatest storms had passed, we took some time scouting the roads around our home to see where the needs are and will continue to be for the coming days. Some of the images above are from that trip.

Afterward, we sat eating at one of the only open restaurants in the area in a room full of strangers and I was struck by such a powerful sense of care for every person there. I felt infinitely more connected - invested - than I can ever remember feeling towards a community... like that feeling I got as a kid growing up in hurricane territory, only then with not as much of a sense of responsibility as now.

I love this city, this area, now, more than I ever have before. And because of that, I too, am heartbroken... am moved to act... am overwhelmed with the desire to pray. We covet your prayers here in Middle Tennessee and appreciate your taking notice.