7/4/25 - No Ordinary Day

On Friday morning, July 4, 2025, Scott and I were up early, packing for a weekend trip to the lake with our sons and grandkids.

At 9:10 a.m., my uncle texted me with a video sent to him by his daughter who lived about a mile from the Guadalupe River in Kerrville, TX. In her video, a raging river flowed powerfully over a bridge with an abandoned car propped precariously on top of a mangled guardrail. My cousin commented, “I hope whoever owns that car is okay.”

We packed the truck and hit the road to meet up with our family. Scott drove while I checked for more news about the flood. I was shocked by the videos beginning to filter onto news feeds and social media.

‍About that time, my older son called to ask if I’d heard about a girls’ camp along the river. He told me friends of their family had a daughter who was there. Fortunately, they’d received word that she was safe. But he said reports were coming in that an entire cabin of eight-year-old campers had been taken by the river.

‍A sick heaviness settled in my chest.

I cry as I write this, remembering how anxious I was to get to the lake and hear those grandkids call, “Hi, Milly!” Two of the five grands were eight-year-old girls. I wondered how I could even breathe if we lost one – any – of our grandkids.

‍Once we arrived, it was all I could do to greet the kids normally. What I really wanted to do was to grab each one of them, squeeze them too tightly, and just tell them over and over again that I loved them. But I knew that the best thing I could do for these kids was to act and speak as I usually would – to do everything in my power to give them a fun, carefree, joy-filled couple of days.

‍We and our sons continued to speak in hushed tones as we followed the stories coming out of Kerr County. The magnitude of what had happened began to dawn on me. Families and friends – little ones to grandparents and every age in between – expected a relaxing weekend on the river. Instead, in the dark of night, the rain-swollen river had turned monstrous and swept away everyone and everything in its path. Never had these souls dreamed they would become victims of an unprecedented, historic flood that unmercifully barreled down the Guadalupe River.

I took not one single second of that weekend for granted. We all got sunburned and smelled faintly of lake water. The kids ate their weight in snacks. I lost count of how many times Milly ended up with kitchen duty. 😊Jack and Janie caught a few fish. Our younger son untangled miles of tangled fishing line. The fireworks on the lake were worthy of all of our “oohs and aahs.” The vintage aircraft stunts were impressive – as was the surprise MiG flyover! Swimsuits and towels littered the lawn, drying in the hot sun.

And in the moments when I found myself alone in the house, staring out the window at the kids laughing and jumping into the lake and their dads and Papa sitting in lawn chairs, talking man stuff and keeping eyes on the kids – I cried.

I cried for the fresh grief of the families and friends of dear loved ones taken by an unfeeling, unrelenting, unprecedented tsunami that stole not just property and landscape but precious lives. And I cried grateful tears for the extraordinary ordinariness of this sweet weekend at the lake with my family.

The deepest grief wasn’t mine to carry that weekend – nor in the many months since. But just as the waters flooded Hill Country communities along the banks of the Guadalupe, my prayers and the prayers of countless others have since flooded heaven for the Lord to hold the grieving families and friends of the Texas 119 in His deepest comfort, especially as the one-year anniversary of that awful, tragic day nears.

We pray for the folks who lost everything - homes, businesses, and in many cases, people they loved. We pray for the first responders and those who assisted in search, rescue, and recovery. We pray for the locals who experienced up close and personal a tragedy that will linger with them always. We thank God for the outpouring of generosity and the acts of love and kindness by people who refused to stand by and do nothing – and who continue to serve Kerr County in its ongoing recovery.

For now, all of creation groans. Nature longs for redemption by its Creator. All over the world, the nations quake, fires rage, and rivers roar beyond their borders.

Lord, we long for the Day when You return to right every wrong, dry our tears, and put death itself to death. Until that Day, be near to the brokenhearted. Be their Solace. Collect their tears in Your bottle. Bring beauty from these ashes. In Jesus’ beautiful Name, amen.

‍ ‍*****

If you would like to put a story to the names of all who were lost on July 4, 2025, I highly recommend that you go to 119 Miles for 119 Lives. Sara Virdell has committed to run one mile for each of the 119 victims of the flood. You can follow her progress on her Facebook page where she shares snippets of their personalities and encourages us to honor and remember them and to pray for the families, friends, and communities forever touched on that day.

(For helpful Scriptures, please reference Romans 8:19-22, Revelation 21:3b-5, Psalm 56:8 (NLT), and Isaiah 43:1b-3a.)