The storm is passed, but the sandbags remain

The weatherman said it would rain and to prepare for a storm. When it didn't come Tuesday as predicted, many settled in thinking the storm had passed this area.

We were good scouts so we tried to prepare. We pulled out lanterns and candles in preparation for a flood. The flashlights had batteries and we thought we were ready.

Then it came. The rain poured and the water rose just as the weather forecast foretold.

The wind began to blow and the trees began to sway and bend. We heard hail plummet our roof. We watched the lights flicker so we anticipated an outage. We fully charged our cell phones and IPads, just in case.

We waited and the rain poured.

Around 1 am. there was a flash of lightning and a thunder clap that rumbled across the sky. It wasn't just in Monroe it was stretching across the south. The winds howled and power breakers tripped. The power of the blast popped the caps off of detectors and alarms and sirens began to scream into the watery black night.

The screeching alarm was an erie battery generated howl like that of sick crane yelling into emptiness. No one heard it, if they did, they ignored it. The alarm screamed as we scrambled to follow the smell of singhed wires. We moved from room to room but could not find it. We searched, but that search was interrupted by another crack of lightning and a roll of thunder.

I ran from the front to the back to track down the burning smell then slipped. I couldn't catch myself. My feet went into the air and when I came down there was a splash and a terrible pain in my foot. I rolled over and found
myself completely wet.

The water had begun to gurgle through the floor, slithering like a snake on a meandering path through first one room then another, soaking carpet and leaving a watery trail as it hungrily sought something dry to devour.

I struggled to stand and heard squish of water soaked carpet and watched as more water lapped at our front door.

To slow the flow I put on a rain poncho and some heavy boots and waded through calf deep water to a stack of sandbags that we stored away in case of emergencies. We had them decoratively arranged around the trunks of trees in the yard so that we could get to them quickly in case of high water.

The sandbags were cute under the trees, but they weighed about fifty pounds each. I started moving them, two at a time, in the driving rain. Joslyn was outside, too; moving sandbags and stacking them along the front of the house as the water continued to rise, lapping at the front door, seeping into a bedroom soaking the floors of the pantry.

As determined as the water was to enter, we were equally determined to keep it out. Using a soil barrel I was able to move as many as five bags at a time. Pulling 250 pounds of sandbags through the water was a slow task. I dragged them to the front, Joslyn placed them. She was real trooper.

We covered the entire front of the house with our "decorative" sandbags; they slowed the water.

My sons and daughter-in-law showed up to help, but we had just about used up all of the bags. They assumed the city had bags out and they drove Kita's truck through tire high water to the sanitation department only to learn that there was no sandbags or crews to help.

DeSiard street was like a river. The beautiful new homes built in the DeSiard Street area were water soaked. A car with a woman and child stalled, a wrecker came to her rescue.

Joslyn began calling the elderly in our neighborhood. We could see the water rising at their homes, too. They had no sandbags. The phones were down, but she kept trying. We were prepared to help, but it didn't happen.

We sat in our living room and looked out of the window. As quick as the rains came, they were gone. Not a single drop.
The waters that were crawling over the top of our sandbags began to recede quickly. We could see the ground.

We'll be ripping up some carpet, mopping up some water and throwing out some things that were water soaked, but all in all it wasn't that bad.

As I looked at my water soaked carpet, wet clothes, and the water sitting in my flooor, I thought of a bible passage that says in
Psalms 107:29-31, " He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad because they be quiet; so he bringeth them unto their desired haven. Oh that men would praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men!"

At 4 a.m. the weather forecast flashed on my IPad: 64 degrees and clear skies.

When the sun rises, the clean up will begin and maybe that alarm will finally stop yelping.