In my previous post, I wrote about risking a long road trip with my kids, fearing that one or all of us would end up in tears the entire way. As it turned out our time on the road was fine. We had fun. My son saw a plethora of John Deere tractors and trucks and busses that filled his heart with joy. My daughter enjoyed listening to stories on cd that we checked out from the library. We played alphabet games and sang songs, and ate a lot of snacks. We stopped by the homes of dear friends and family along the way. Best of all, our time at the destination was great.
But, a risk that I had not considered blindsided us. When we returned, we found that the entire first floor of our home had been flooded in the disaster that hit Nashville. We came straight to my in-laws with our vacation luggage since we knew we couldn’t sleep in the house and didn’t know when we would be able to move back in.
As we learned more about the state of our house, I faced the result of many risks I had taken over the years. The decision to move to Nashville. The decision to leave our condo to move to our new house. The decision to marry my husband. The decision to send my children to the school they attend. The decision to take my insurance representative’s advice to NOT get flood insurance since we don’t live in a flood zone. The list goes on. Some of the risks resulted in tremendous regret and I was frustrated by that, but eventually I realized what a waste of energy it was to focus on those mistakes.
I am thankful for the risks I took that turned out to be good decisions. While Nashville did flood, it turns out the place lives up to it’s “volunteer state” name. It was amazing to see how many members of the community did everything they could to help their neighbors. When we first moved here, we bought a condominium. It turns out, that complex was one of the hardest hit communities, but our section was fine. Staying in that particular unit would have been a good decision but we would have been surrounded by tragedy for months. The best decision I made was to marry my husband. He and his sister were the image of grace in the wake of this disaster.
One risk that I had not calculated into the equation was choosing a preschool for my children. They are my most precious gift and choosing care for them indeed felt like a big risk at the time, but I didn’t know the scope of that risk.
Our first morning back was a school day and I decided to send our kids to school. As our lives were upsided, my children welcomed the routine of school and thrilled at spending their days with their friends just like “normal” days.
My son’s teacher sent an email to all of the parents asking about their homes in the wake of the flood. I replied with a brief two sentence synopsis. I had no idea the snowball that would start. Over the next few days, I had a flood of calls and notes from moms, teachers and staff offering childcare and asking if we needed food or clothing. I was humbled. At the time, we didn’t know what we needed and we didn’t have anyplace to put anything so we declined assistance. In the mean time, I was at my in-law’s house with my son. I spent those days on the phone trying to get demolition help while my husband and sister-in-law threw out all of the damaged items in our house. The mother of one of my daughter’s preschool classmates arrived at our house with lunch for my husband to keep him going while he was working. Meanwhile no water remediation specialists were available and contractors were not returning my calls. I didn’t know what to do. Then I went to my son’s mother’s day tribute at his preschool. While there, I asked the director’s fiancee, who happens to be a contractor, if he had any time to help or any staff available for work. He was in the middle of building something and was unavailable then, but gave me the name of a parent from my son’s class who is also a contractor. I called-and to my surprise- he answered his cell phone. It was 3:30 in the afternoon and he said he’d be at our house the following morning with a team and a dumpster.
The next morning, as my husband dropped off my daughter at school, the director checked in with him at drop off and asked if we needed anything. He declined. Then she pressed further. She lowered her eyeglasses the way only a school director can and stared him down asking the same question. This time he caved. ”I need help moving the salvaged items out of the house so the workers can get started.” Within a couple of hours, the PTA President’s husband arrived. He worked in the Katrina recovery and helped us figure out what could be saved. By lunch time, we had a team of trucks and dads to salvage all of our belongings and move them into a 10 x 10 storage unit. It took one trip. Even the school director, her fiancee and one of her staff members came to the house. And the calls continued offering to help us move our belongings back to the house when the work is done at the end of the summer. The kind notes continued to flood in and my kids frequently found surprises like coloring books and crayons from their classmates and teachers in their back packs.
Last week, I attended my daughter’s preschool graduation. I didn’t know what to expect but was surprised by how touched I was by the ceremony. I enjoyed watching the kids sing and listening to the stories of each child. I felt like I knew all of the families. I knew she was in the best community we could offer her.
I cried when I picked up my kids from school on their last day. While my daughter won’t be attending the same kindergarten as any of her classmates-much to her dismay-we plan to line up a schedule of playdates to help get us through the summer. And I am so thankful that my son will be returning in the fall. I am humbled and honored to be a part of the community.
The school that my daughter will be attending in the fall has also been amazing, especially given our newness. I look forward to participating in both communities.
I had no idea that in choosing a preschool, not only was I entrusting the care of my most precious gifts to strangers, but I would also be cared for by that same community. I expected my daughter would make friends and learn her letters. I didn’t expect to learn lessons on friendship and community, but am thankful that I did.
Tessa Lemos is a Chicana who grew up and was educated in the Pacific Northwest, blossomed in New York City, and now lives in Nashville where she continues to learn and grow. She is a lawyer by training, administrator by profession, and organizer by habit. She spends her days with her children and her nights with her husband and squeezes in the words as much as possible.
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What an amazing story of community at its best, Tessa. You were certainly blessed – even in the face of disaster. How wonderful that you are able to see and to appreciate those blessings.
Thank you for telling your story. It gives us all hope.
Let me offer my condolences on your flood. I know that it can be overwhelming to clean up the mess, try to find order out of the chaos, and handle the grief of the damage to your home.
Americans really step up with there is a tragedy. It’s something I love about our citizens. With so much news about people being violent, corrupt, and greedy, it is heartening to hear a story of people coming together to help one another and that wonderful sense of community.
Thanks for sharing your story.
Yes, Tessa – thank you so much for sharing the story and the insights that you derived as a result!