It was June 1964 in Great Falls, MT
It had rained all spring. It rained so long and hard that when there were short intervals between the downpour, nothing had time to dry out. I had just celebrated my 9th birthday, and was the oldest of five children. My mother had been recently divorced and struggled to make ends meet. My father lived a few miles away.
The state officials had warned the town that the dam was at capacity and near breaking point. We were told that there would probably be a flood and estimations were that the water would be about one foot deep on the main floor, and just the basements would be submerged. It was raining again and my father came over to bring the hot water heater up from downstairs in order to save it. My parents hurried to put everything up high on shelves and counters just in case we were evacuated.
Suddenly there were helicopters flying overhead with sound systems blaring the urgent message, "Get out now! The dam has broken! The water is coming!
My mother handed each one of us older children a brown paper bag and told us to go to our rooms and get some clothes. "NO toys", were her instructions! I left my new blue stuffed birthday dog on my bed, along with my favorite doll and filled my sack. I then said good-bye to my three pollywogs in the bucket by the back porch. They had just grown their back legs. I had big plans of teaching them how to do tricks just as soon as they had turned into frogs.
Inside the car, we were silent and scared as we drove across town to a friend's house to spend the night. My mother left and we all went to bed. Later that night she came to me and held me in her arms while she sobbed. She had stood on a hill above our home and watched the flood waters cover it up, with only the point of the roof sticking out of the water. As a child, I didn't know what to say because I couldn't understand her deep emotion and loss. She did not have a husband to comfort her, she had just lost every material thing she had except for our car and she had lost her faith in God. She was truly a broken woman. It would be many years before I understood that.
The next morning we all went to a shelter to stay. My mother was gone most of the day and the only thing I remember is the very unpleasant experience of having a Typhoid Fever shot and sitting on my cot crying because my arm hurt. We went from shelter to temporary housing, waiting for the rain to stop and the flood waters to recede. They eventually did, but what was left behind was a sight I will never forget.
The mess was unbelievable. There were dead cows and other farm animals lying around. The stench was unbearable and magnified with mildew, mold, and mud. Floods leave behind a brown, slick, sticky mud called silt. It covers everything and was about 2-3" deep everywhere. Most of the things in our home were unrecognizable and my mother couldn't get over how the six foot upright piano was across the room on it's side, while a glass in the kitchen cupboard hadn't moved. Nearly everything was pulled out and thrown away. My mother was so sad when they had to chop up the piano with an ax to get it out.
She threw away my favorite doll along with my blue birthday dog and I cried and cried about the doll because I'd had it since my first birthday. She later rummaged through the garbage, got it out, washed and disinfected it and gave it back to me. Looking back on all the important things my mom had to worry about and take care of, I marvel that she would do that for me. That's the kind of mother she's always been. I think the only ones happy about this whole ordeal were the three pollywogs who had escaped their bucket prison.
Many months went by and we stayed in several temporary places. Our family was chosen to be helped by the American Red Cross. Our house was located in the hardest hit area of the flood. They went in and put up new sheet rock, fixed everything and gave my mother $1,000.00 to furnish our home and in 1964 that was enough to get what we needed. We were so excited to move back in and the big day finally arrived. It was just several days before Christmas when I came through the front door and saw the clean, freshly painted home with new furniture. My 9 year old heart swelled with such gratitude, I could hardly contain myself. We went from room to room, "oohing and aahing" over everything. We put Christmas music on and celebrated that year with a new appreciation for life, and especially for people who care. My feelings were incredulous that someone who did not know us would help us like that. The Red Cross is not just an organization -it is manned by people who gave my mother back her faith and hope in God. For me, the seeds of charity had been planted, which would lead me later on in life to follow Jesus Christ and understand His plan for me.
I can not smell new paint without being flooded with memories and feelings of that Christmas - my experience with Christlike mankind. Many times I will get something out to paint at Christmas time, just so that I can have that smell in our home. I'm alway carried back to the night I walked through the door of our remodeled little house, the paint fresh, the feelings tender, and faith renewed.
It had rained all spring. It rained so long and hard that when there were short intervals between the downpour, nothing had time to dry out. I had just celebrated my 9th birthday, and was the oldest of five children. My mother had been recently divorced and struggled to make ends meet. My father lived a few miles away.
The state officials had warned the town that the dam was at capacity and near breaking point. We were told that there would probably be a flood and estimations were that the water would be about one foot deep on the main floor, and just the basements would be submerged. It was raining again and my father came over to bring the hot water heater up from downstairs in order to save it. My parents hurried to put everything up high on shelves and counters just in case we were evacuated.
Suddenly there were helicopters flying overhead with sound systems blaring the urgent message, "Get out now! The dam has broken! The water is coming!
My mother handed each one of us older children a brown paper bag and told us to go to our rooms and get some clothes. "NO toys", were her instructions! I left my new blue stuffed birthday dog on my bed, along with my favorite doll and filled my sack. I then said good-bye to my three pollywogs in the bucket by the back porch. They had just grown their back legs. I had big plans of teaching them how to do tricks just as soon as they had turned into frogs.
Inside the car, we were silent and scared as we drove across town to a friend's house to spend the night. My mother left and we all went to bed. Later that night she came to me and held me in her arms while she sobbed. She had stood on a hill above our home and watched the flood waters cover it up, with only the point of the roof sticking out of the water. As a child, I didn't know what to say because I couldn't understand her deep emotion and loss. She did not have a husband to comfort her, she had just lost every material thing she had except for our car and she had lost her faith in God. She was truly a broken woman. It would be many years before I understood that.
The next morning we all went to a shelter to stay. My mother was gone most of the day and the only thing I remember is the very unpleasant experience of having a Typhoid Fever shot and sitting on my cot crying because my arm hurt. We went from shelter to temporary housing, waiting for the rain to stop and the flood waters to recede. They eventually did, but what was left behind was a sight I will never forget.
The mess was unbelievable. There were dead cows and other farm animals lying around. The stench was unbearable and magnified with mildew, mold, and mud. Floods leave behind a brown, slick, sticky mud called silt. It covers everything and was about 2-3" deep everywhere. Most of the things in our home were unrecognizable and my mother couldn't get over how the six foot upright piano was across the room on it's side, while a glass in the kitchen cupboard hadn't moved. Nearly everything was pulled out and thrown away. My mother was so sad when they had to chop up the piano with an ax to get it out.
She threw away my favorite doll along with my blue birthday dog and I cried and cried about the doll because I'd had it since my first birthday. She later rummaged through the garbage, got it out, washed and disinfected it and gave it back to me. Looking back on all the important things my mom had to worry about and take care of, I marvel that she would do that for me. That's the kind of mother she's always been. I think the only ones happy about this whole ordeal were the three pollywogs who had escaped their bucket prison.
Many months went by and we stayed in several temporary places. Our family was chosen to be helped by the American Red Cross. Our house was located in the hardest hit area of the flood. They went in and put up new sheet rock, fixed everything and gave my mother $1,000.00 to furnish our home and in 1964 that was enough to get what we needed. We were so excited to move back in and the big day finally arrived. It was just several days before Christmas when I came through the front door and saw the clean, freshly painted home with new furniture. My 9 year old heart swelled with such gratitude, I could hardly contain myself. We went from room to room, "oohing and aahing" over everything. We put Christmas music on and celebrated that year with a new appreciation for life, and especially for people who care. My feelings were incredulous that someone who did not know us would help us like that. The Red Cross is not just an organization -it is manned by people who gave my mother back her faith and hope in God. For me, the seeds of charity had been planted, which would lead me later on in life to follow Jesus Christ and understand His plan for me.
I can not smell new paint without being flooded with memories and feelings of that Christmas - my experience with Christlike mankind. Many times I will get something out to paint at Christmas time, just so that I can have that smell in our home. I'm alway carried back to the night I walked through the door of our remodeled little house, the paint fresh, the feelings tender, and faith renewed.
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