08/15/2026
The last couple of days have put a lot into perspective for me.
First, the puppies are doing well, and we are still incredibly thankful for every person who has reached out, helped us, checked on us, prayed for us, or offered us somewhere to go.
We’ve been in this strange place of trying to process and mourn our own losses while constantly reminding ourselves how fortunate we are. Our home is ok and the damages to our property and belongings is bad, but we are so grateful. Once we get everything wet and ruined cleared out of our garage, get our well, crawl space, and septic taken care of, and the damage addressed, we have a home to go back to.
So many people around us cannot say that.
Our little town has been devastated. I’ve watched people empty the entire contents of their homes onto the curb. Families have lost everything. And because of that, I’ve struggled to let myself be upset about what we lost.
I’m not a particularly materialistic person. When we realized we needed to leave, I grabbed my wedding rings, my mom and dad’s rings, a cross necklace I received when I delivered Charlotte, and a Virgin Mary necklace that has absolutely no monetary value but means the world to one of my girls.
We packed almost no clothes. I shoved one special stuffed animal for each of my older girls into the tiny drawstring bag I grabbed.
Our girls were already safe with my brother-in-law and his wife, so our focus was getting our dogs and puppies out—not saving our stuff.
When we had a few minutes to move things higher, what did I choose? A couple boxes of family videos and a laundry basket full of handmade blankets that family and friends had made for my girls.
That was it.
When I had to decide what mattered most, those were the things I chose...But, standing there afterward looking at everything that now has to be thrown away, I still felt overwhelmed. Sad. Lost, and then guilty for feeling any of those things.
How could I decide all of those things weren’t important enough to save and then be heartbroken when they were ruined?
How could I be upset about our losses when I could look down the road and see neighbors carrying everything they own out of their homes?
I’ve had to remind myself that someone else carrying a heavier load does not make mine weightless.
Galatians 6:4–5 reminds us not to compare our load to someone else’s. Each of us has our own burden to carry.
1 Peter 5:7 tells us to give our worries to God because He cares for us.
And 2 Corinthians 1:3–4 reminds us that God comforts us in our troubles so that we can turn around and comfort others.
Today I went to church and helped pack buckets of supplies for families who need them. And for a little while, instead of thinking about everything waiting for us at home, I got to think about someone else.
And it felt good.
There is something incredibly healing about getting outside of your own hurt long enough to help carry someone else’s.
I think when something terrible happens, it is so easy to become shocked, frozen, overwhelmed, or consumed by everything that needs to be done. I know I have felt all of those things but sometimes the best thing you can do is get up and DO SOMETHING.
Clean something. Carry something. Pack a bucket. Bring someone food. Check on a neighbor. Pray with someone. Let someone cry. Pick up a shovel. Give what you can—even if all you have to give right now is your time.
You are allowed to grieve what you lost, even when someone else lost more. You can be devastated for yourself and incredibly grateful at the same time.
Maybe one of the best ways we can thank God for what we still have is by using it to help someone else carry what they’re facing.
