My dear friend, Becky, has collected for me the Houston Chronicle series about Hurricane Harvey heroes over the past weeks. Ironically, I'd not read many of the personal stories from those tragic hours of rising waters and dramatic rescues; I was living my own story, too overwhelmed and busy to open a newspaper or watch nightly news. 
The articles have deeply moved me, reminding me how important it is to tell our stories of pain, courage and joy.
The anniversary of Harvey collides with the fifth anniversary of Rob's cancer journey; it surprises me how this timing effects me. I'm slowly moving back home and as I unpack Rob's stuff, I grieve even more. I've been forced to clean out his upstairs closet of ignored belongings. You know, it's often easier to just shut the door, but eventually we must sort and let go.
One newspaper article details the rushing, chest-high water the night of many rescues. I must admit, I was a bit traumatized reading it, as I remembered my own encounter with the escaping reservoir.  However, nothing compares with the pain of living through this without my Rob and children. Like so many treasures lost in the flood, I can't retrieve precious moments or holidays forever lost with my grandchildren.  I've felt powerless, not being able to support my loved ones in their own personal hardships as well as achievements.  And the hardest hurdle remains: crossing, for the final time, the threshold of my finished home without the man who helped make it a home. 
As I share my personal thoughts, I'm reminded there are so many neighbors still waiting to even begin the process of rebuilding their homes and lives. Their personal storm stories continue and they need heroes who will continue to rescue them from the aftermath of Harvey. They will not have a hurricane-free day until the last box is unpacked. Consider unpacking some encouragement, delivering cookies, offering to carry off the empty boxes. My biggest cheerleader, Laura, handed me a Starbucks card during our VBS. Between house details and dozens of kids, I had no time to take care of myself. Her kind gesture fueled my frantic mornings. Dozens of tasks remain or have been ignored... energy sappers! A boat might not be needed now, but trucks, muscles and anything that beats this brutal heat are lifesavers. Most of us will not ask; you'll need to just show up!
Until the last home is finished...