When the Places We Love Get Broken
I've been staring at my phone for three days, scrolling through videos of the Hill Country flooding, and I don't know what to do with all these feelings.
My friend texted me Sunday night: "Man the flooding in the Hill Country is absolutely tragic." We've been friends since we were six, went to the same schools, worked summers together on the Guadalupe River. He knows, like I know, that this isn't just news to us. This is our place getting broken.
I admitted defeat a few days ago: it's hard to think about anything else.
The Complicated Grief of Watching From Afar
There's something uniquely painful about watching a place you love get destroyed when you're not there. You can't help. You can't do anything except watch videos on your phone and feel helpless.
I keep thinking about all of us who have Hill Country memories, summer camps, river trips, weekend getaways, first dates, family reunions. We're all probably feeling some version of the same thing right now. That mix of pure nostalgia for summer days on the river, mixed with horror at what's happening to people there right now.
It feels wrong to miss a place when people are missing loved ones. But the grief is real, and I think it's okay to acknowledge it.
When Safe Places Aren't Safe Anymore
My friend said something that stuck with me: "Just kind of shatters our sense of comfort and peace associated with that area."
That's exactly it. The Hill Country has always been the place you go to feel safe. To disconnect. To remember what matters. Generations of families have made their best memories there.
Natural disasters do this, they take our safe spaces and remind us that nothing is guaranteed. The river that gave us so much joy became something terrifying.
The Weight of Watching
I've been in group chats and calls with friends all weekend, and everyone's feeling it differently. Some people can't stop watching the coverage. Others can't bear to look. Some are trying to get to Kerrville to help as quickly as possible. Others just feel numb.
All of it is okay to feel. There's no correct way to process watching one of your favorite places in the world get devastated.
What's hitting me most is how many people are connected to this area. Summer camps alone probably touch thousands of families. Then there are all the river operations, the small businesses, the weekend warriors, the locals who've lived there for generations.
We're all grieving together, even if we're scattered across the country now.
What Father Scott Knew
My friend ended one of his texts with a quote that our pastor used to share: "Life is short. We don't have much time to gladden the hearts of those who walk this way with us. So, be swift to love and make haste to be kind."
I keep coming back to that.
Maybe this is what disasters teach us. Not just about preparedness or climate change or infrastructure, although those things matter. But about how fragile everything is, and how little time we actually have.
The river will recover. The Hill Country will rebuild. But the people who were lost won't come back, and the families affected will carry this forever.
Moving Forward
I don't have some profound insight about what this all means. I'm still processing it, like a lot of you probably are.
What I keep thinking is this: if the places we love can change overnight, if the people we care about can be gone in an instant, then maybe the only thing that makes sense is what that quote says. Be swift to love. Make haste to be kind.
Check on your people. Tell them you care about them. Don't wait for the right moment or the perfect words.
And if you're feeling what I'm feeling - this complicated mix of nostalgia and grief and helplessness - know that you're not alone. A lot of us are carrying this together.
How to Help
Center Point Volunteer Fire Department - Accepting online donations through Venmo @CPVFDTX
Kerr County Flood Relief Fund - Community Foundation of the Texas Hill Country fund supporting rescue and rebuilding efforts
Salvation Army Kerrville Kroc Center - Accepting non-perishables, hygiene items, bleach, diapers and other items (drop off at 855 Hays Street, Kerrville, TX)
Texsar - Volunteer-based search and rescue organization deployed to the flood-hit area
World Central Kitchen - Providing food and water to emergency responders in the disaster area
Austin Pets Alive - Has taken in more than 150 displaced pets, most in need of monetary donations
If you're in the affected areas or have family there, know that so many of us are thinking about you. And if you're like me, feeling complicated emotions about a place you love, you're not alone in that either.