The Flood

Continue steadfastly in prayer, being watchful in it with thanksgiving. Colossians 4:2

            When Anne and Mike woke up that Thursday, they knew they wouldn’t be working on their house. They might as well have some breakfast before going outside to get a better handle on the storm that had rivulets of water running down the windows.

            “I asked Mike to wake the boys. As I got things started in the kitchen, it seemed like a drop or two of water hit my head. I thought I must be imagining things, since we didn’t have any plumbing over the kitchen. I set plates out, and then walked over to the cabinets to get drinking glasses. A couple more drops hit my head, and this time I knew I wasn’t imagining anything.

            “I yelled for Mike. He looked at me in disbelief when I told him there was water dripping onto my head. One look at the ceiling and he saw more water. We stepped into the family room, and saw water glistening on the chimney.

            “In unison, we sprinted to the second floor. Water was running down that chimney. The carpet was soaked, its pattern reflected in the standing water. And then we saw it—a window above the balcony had failed. It was one of the windows we hadn’t replaced, because an earlier inspection had shown it was secure.

            “But the window had enough age, and was in the right location, to give way to the steady pounding of rain. As we were trying to comprehend just how much damage had occurred, we could tell the ceiling was starting to buckle. Mike quickly punched a couple holes overhead, in the ceiling of a small room we weren’t using, hoping the water would find a natural channel down to the main floor.

            “I followed him back to the kitchen, which was now a total mess. As we surveyed the damage there, the power went out.”

            They looked at each other. There wasn’t anything they could start in the house, and everyone had lost their appetite. So, they donned rain gear, and stepped outside.

            Eerie sounds pierced the wet, morning air. Sounds of rushing water. Sounds of wood snapping, Sounds of wind whipped, rain drenched tree branches flinging water every direction. Sounds of dirt and gravel washing away, leaving large holes where there had been roads. Angry storm clouds whipped across the sky, some tinged with black, some with grey.

            They began walking the perimeter of their thirty-five acres. The damage to neighboring houses and barns was shocking. Buildings had been ripped apart, their contents exposed to the elements. Everything from couches to sinks to feed troughs were scattered in the wind whipped, rain soaked land. Horses belonging to the neighbors were standing in water halfway to their bellies.

            As the four of them continued walking, they did so in silence. There was nothing to say. They could only shake their heads as their eyes took in the devastation.

            “I stated crying, hoping my family wouldn’t notice. The only reason we were in Colorado, and now in this mess, was because of me—we had left Washington because of my health. The rain-soaked sheetrock and insulation in our house would need to be removed, otherwise mold would begin to grow. My husband, and my sons, were aware of the significance of the water damage and the impact it could have on my health. We had done everything right in our Colorado home search. The Timber Frame House needed lots of work, but there were no water issues.

            “Although I tried to hide my tears, my family noticed. We were all aware that without electricity, we couldn’t turn on air filters. I was feeling sad, guilty, and hopeless. One by one, Mike, and then the boys, came and gave me a hug—it seemed we could read each other’s thoughts. All of us were saddened by our situation, especially me.

            “I had a difficult time letting go of my emotions. We had done everything right to find the perfect home. Our Forever Home had proved unsafe. And now the Timber Frame Home might prove the same. I had to wonder if there was any safe place for me to live.”

            The forces of water had joined as one, with unbelievable destruction the end result. Again lost in their own thoughts, they carefully continued to make their way through the rain soaked bushes and grass.

            “It took us a good hour and a half to walk the perimeter of our place. When we came back to the house, water was still running down the hillsides, away from our four-story house. It was cutting ruts into the roads, and exposing shallow roots of trees and bushes.

            “We stopped. Our eyes met. Instinctively, we knew it was time to break the silence. We joined hands, bowed our heads, and did the one thing we felt led to do. We prayed.

            “We prayed for the rain to stop. We prayed for those caught in the middle of this destruction, and we prayed for their safety. We thanked God for His sovereignty, and asked Him to comfort every individual impacted by the storm. We acknowledged God’s power, and asked for His grace and mercy.

            “And we prayed for sunshine.”

            Later that morning, they learned just how isolating the storm had been. There were no passable roads into Lyons. A bridge had washed out. Where there had once been entire stretches of roads, there were entire sections, or partial sections, of roads washed downstream. The intense fury of the storm left its mark on bridges, roads, and trails. There was no way for them to leave their own neighborhood.

 The 500 Year Flood

            The deluge of water ran over ground that had been saturated by rains the previous two days. It roiled along the paths of least resistance. Where the water didn’t find a path, it created one, taking with it whatever was in its way. The rain kept falling, and joined water already flooding the North St. Vrain and the South St. Vrain Rivers, two of the larger tributaries feeding into the South Platte River. Flood waters grew in size and intensity, gathering momentum and filling in low lying areas.

            The town of Lyons was hardest hit. So much water rushed through the town, the landscape was permanently changed. Homes in two mobile parks were washed away. Stick built houses were ripped to shreds. In a few cases, people lost not only their houses, but the very land upon which those houses had been built. At least eight people lost their lives.

            The Schlegels soon learned just how wide-spread and devastating the storm had been. It was now being dubbed the 500-year flood. The morning of September 12, 2013, Colorado’s governor declared a disaster emergency in fourteen of the seventeen counties impacted by anywhere from fifteen to twenty inches of rain over a three-day period. Two days later, the country’s president declared the area a national disaster.

            Lyons’ water treatment plant was in the path of the storm, and was destroyed. Now, residents were without power, and without water. It took a week before portable toilets could be delivered and set up through town.

            The elevation at the Timber Frame House is over 6,000 feet; the elevation in the city of Lyons proper is roughly 5,375 feet. Initially, snow had fallen in the higher elevations, and then gradually turned to rain. The water first soaked into cracks and crevices, the result of a summer of drought. Now, debris and destruction were everywhere. It was debatable whether the destruction looked more sinister from the air, or from the ground.

            Just over 2,000 people called Lyons home in September of that year. With the water treatment plant destroyed, no one escaped the impact of the storm. The town quickly became the main focus for the National Guard. People and pets were rescued by air and ground. Local and national news teams were dispatched. They found plenty of human interest stories.

Neighbors Helping Neighbors

            “Those of us living in the Spring Gulch area came together to help each other out. There were two roads leading out of the gulch; one had washed away, and the other was closed over concerns about the integrity of a bridge. And while all of us considered ourselves quite self-sufficient, we were keenly aware we lived in an area where normally the biggest threat to our safety was wildfires. That’s why we didn’t keep extra gas or diesel fuel on hand.

            “Mike and the boys siphoned fuel from our vehicles to keep a small generator running. Neighbors were willing to share whatever was needed; fuel was the item most in demand. While our immediate area didn’t suffer the devastation other areas did, without fuel, none of us could pump water or keep freezers running.”

            Four days later the family received word that the bridge in question had been inspected—they and others could leave if they wished. But there was one stipulation. If anyone left, they were not to return. Only emergency personnel were allowed in the area. They learned even those who lived in the region weren’t allowed to return to their homes.

            “We had to decide—stay or leave. Because of the danger to my health, we left. It would only be a matter of time before all the water-logged sheetrock, insulation, and carpeting would begin to grow mold.

            “There were so many families in need of temporary shelter, that hotel and motel rooms in our area were full. We drove more than 130 miles before finding a hotel room, in Avon. One of the things on Mike’s mind was finding a larger generator; he checked several stores in the Avon area, but they were sold out. Determined to find what we needed, he drove the ten miles from Avon to Vail. After checking in a couple stores, he finally located a generator we could use, from the few still available for purchase. We had no idea how long it would be until power would be restored.

            “Before we had spent a full week in Avon, we learned we would be able to go back home. We knew we needed to get back and get wet items out of the house before mold started to grow. The sooner the better—my health was at stake.

            “Upon returning to Lyons, we heard about the Disaster Center. This had been set up after the president had proclaimed the area to be a national disaster. We were told it was the place we could check out possible resources."

The Disaster Center

            They anticipated there would be a crowd. There was. The Schlegels sized up the situation; two long rows of tables and lots of people in each row.

            “Why don’t you start here, Mike, and I’ll take this side.”

              Anne made the suggestion because she felt they could gather information quicker if they split up. After agreeing to meet at the far end of the tables, she started with the tables on her right.

            They moved along, at what sometimes felt like a snail’s pace, talking with people who were nodding their heads in understanding while handing them papers to fill out, willing to listen but not willing to keep others waiting, and offering verbal encouragement and support, as best they could. Other individuals were handing out cleaning kits and information on additional resources, including FEMA (Federal Emergency Management Agency), an agency of the U.S. Department of Homeland Security.

            “At one point, I looked around to see how Mike was progressing. He was bent over a table, and I figured he was filling out paperwork, just like I was doing.

            “We were looking at another huge house project, and I was thankful I wasn’t going through this alone. Mike and I would need to lean on each other, and support each other. I breathed a silent prayer that God would give us the strength and the resources. We’d had no choice with the house in Washington—we were forced to do mold remediation and mitigation. And now, we were needing to rid our Colorado house of anything wet, hopefully before mold would have a chance to grow.

            “Mike told me later that day that he doesn’t have the patience I do,” said Anne. He noticed I was progressing down the line of tables with less speed.

            “I figured people were giving Anne more information,” Mike said, “but she more likely was being polite and friendly. Anne has always, in any situation, put others’ needs and concerns before her own. She was no doubt encouraging someone whose situation was worse than ours. I confess I was anxious to get going so we could compare notes, and see, in reality, what help, if any, there might be for us.”

            When they met at the far end of the tables, Anne couldn’t wait to share what had happened at the Samaritan’s Purse table. Two chaplains had posed questions, and in response, Anne shared about her mold allergy. 

            “Mike, those two chaplains took my hands and prayed with me. That was so amazing.”

            The next day, when Mike’s cell phone rang, he didn’t recognize the number. A member of Samaritan’s Purse was calling.

            “I was so thankful when Mike told me what they had to say. They were concerned for my health, and they had a new team that could either come to our place the next day, or remain idle until a bigger project was lined up for them. Mike reassured me the team wouldn’t be taking away from others’ needs. Thirty-five team members were coming to our house the following day!”

            The next morning, as promised, team members showed up and immediately began taking down wet sheetrock and insulation, and pulling up wet carpeting. The debris pile outside became larger and larger, eventually reaching as high as the second floor kitchen window. They accomplished in two days what would have taken Mike and the boys a month, or more.

            “Thankfully, my health held. We were shocked at the end of the second day. We had a good sixty percent of the house tore up—at least we had been able to keep the sheetrock in Washington. Here, we were left with ceiling joists and studs. Team members carefully sprayed the exposed woodwork with a mold retardant chemical, and told us to be sure and let the wood dry for a week, minimum.

            “And then, at the end of the day, before they left, these selfless and caring individuals, who had put their lives on hold to help us and others, gathered around us, prayed for our family, and gave us a Bible they had each signed. It was a Bible we would always treasure.

            “We had come so close to being done with the renovations at the Timber Frame House, and now, the work still ahead of us would seem like a remodel. But, we didn’t have a choice. This was our home now, and though it was basically unlivable, we did have a structure to work with. It was more than so many others had, and we did our best to encourage each other. With sixty percent of the house impacted by the rain, I knew we’d need God’s grace to strengthen and sustain us, physically and emotionally, as we tackled this project.”

            Before the water damage, the Schlegels had been pleased with the progress they had made to make their Colorado house habitable. In addition to completing work in the boys’ bedroom and bathroom, they had replaced every outside door, and all but three windows. Several interior doors had been replaced, and they were mostly finished with needed work in the master bedroom and bathroom. They had also torn down and hauled away a passive solar system. Trim and tile work remained to be done in the basement, but the area was livable.

Feelings of Insecurity

            Noah and Aaron started feeling insecure. Not only was their home is disarray, but there were strangers, all kinds of strangers, in their house. Some were hanging sheetrock, some were tackling plumbing, and others were doing electrical work. Neither the boys, nor their parents, knew who would be showing up, and who wouldn’t, but most days there were one to five workers in the house.

            So many homes were needing to be repaired and remodeled, the Schlegels found it difficult to arrange for repair people and contractors. Their initial struggle had been getting people to even come that far geographically to give bids, let alone agree to show up to work. Some contractors, when they learned the actual location of the house, refused to come. They had plenty of work, so they chose work with little drive time. They didn’t know, and most likely wouldn’t have cared, that the Schlegels had been approved for a one percent loan to rebuild. The loan had come via the Small Business Administration, through FEMA.

          “We were forced to acknowledge just how difficult the entire situation was for our sons,” said Anne. “It hadn’t been that long ago they’d struggled with the thought of moving to Colorado. Now their lives were upended again. And while they had the comfort of their own beds, Mike and I slept for a period of time on a large mattress in the office. Everywhere else the house was tore up and in some stage of renovation. As soon as the basement was safe, we slept down there.”

            Nine long months. That’s the time it would take for the rebuild of the Timber Frame Home. The blessing—the Schlegels could have the work done the way they wanted, without having to do so much of it themselves. But the rebuild was stressful. There were times Anne and Mike weren’t in agreement about how they wanted things done. The biggest challenge was dealing with painters. They were, for some reason, the ones who wanted to take financial advantage of the Schlegels, charging extraordinary prices for the distance they had to drive.

            “Anyone who has been through one renovation, knows the challenges it presents, and the stress it puts on you and your spouse, and on a marriage. This was our second full renovation; there were times I thought it would send us over the edge. Our boys were stressed too, and this was the one thing that hurt most. We just wanted them to be happy and feel secure in their home.”

            “We didn’t have a crisis of faith,” Mike said, “But Anne and I began to wonder if we had actually heard accurately from God about moving to Colorado. We had lost so much. Was this where He wanted us to be?”

Celebrating Christmas

            Christmas 2013 was quiet. Anne and Mike had put construction work on a temporary hold, recognizing they needed time to rejuvenate their spirits and be together as a family. Anne had seen to some Christmas decorations, and they planned dinner for just themselves.

            Christmas Eve, Mike read the story of Jesus’ birth, as recorded in the New Testament’s Book of Luke. As he read, Anne acted out the story, using puppets. The boys rolled their eyes. Seriously, didn’t their mother realize they were a bit old to be entertained by puppets? But after all they’d been through, each of them found comfort in the well-established tradition.

            As Christmas gave way to 2014, everyone looked forward to completion of work in the house. Anne and Mike weren’t surprised when, after a battery of tests, Crossroads informed them that Aaron’s learning challenges were more extensive than the school had initially realized. So many doctors and educators had told his parents, in past years, that he would never progress in school, and that he would forever be dependent upon them for care.  

            Anne and Mike knew Aaron had intelligence, and they weren’t about to give up. Crossroads wouldn’t give up either. Teachers got busy putting together a learning program to take the abilities Aaron did possess, and work to help him reach his highest potential.

            Aaron’s education and future weren’t the only challenges for the Schlegels as they entered a new year. Anne’s health was an ongoing concern. She and Mike’s relationship was surviving the challenges of the renovation, but there were times Anne doubted his love for her.

            “If that wasn’t enough, I continued to carry a load of guilt where my mother was concerned. Surely I could have been a better daughter. I could have managed to spend more time with my mother over the years. Why couldn’t I have been more patient when my mom had come to visit? Why hadn’t I visited more after helping make arrangements for her to be in a nursing home?"

            “I didn’t even miss my mother.”

            That realization, in itself, added to Anne’s already cumbersome load of guilt.

***

I hadn’t met the Schlegel family at the time of the flood. Hearing their story brought back memories of the many friends whose lives had also been impacted by the September deluge. So many Coloradans had shared experiences of that event; it’s one of those landmark moments forever stamped on the timeline of our lives. We remember where we were and what we had planned—plans changed by water being where it wasn’t supposed to be.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version,

copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a division of Good News Publishers.

Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Chapter Twenty-Nine