When Disaster Strikes

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I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the disaster in the Binghamton, New York area. The flood has destroyed the neighborhood where I grew up and

the first floor of my parents house is total loss. We are still in the mourning the death of a house.

That sounds a little weird, "the death of house," truly that's what it is. The stuff is gone, the memories remain, the place where it happened while it can be rebuilt, it's not the same. There's the emotional roller coaster of pulling everything out, one piece at a time and the flood of memories with each item.

Until you're standing in the midst of it, you cannot comprehend the level of the destruction. Yet in the midst of the damage, there are little glimpses of

God at work:

• Although the living room was flooded up to inches of the ceiling, the plush cat that always sat on the back of couch, was still sitting on the upturned couch, the couch was wet and the cat was perfectly dry. My mom cried when she got her car back, cleaned and sanitized Sunday morning.
• The corner cupboard was overturned onto its back and most of the ceramic teapots were still in it and it whole thing came to rest in the air at an angle, so it drained out really well. The platter on the top shelf was sitting there, undamaged, the teapots were tumbled, but not damage, a few of the lids were on the floor in the nearby, unbroken.
• The table floated like a boat in the dining room and a little plush monkey rode it like a surf board. He was dry and comfortable.

They have several collection points for the flood debris.

They have only scratched the surface of collecting it. Here's the collection near the Twin Orchards neighborhood in Vestal.