For several years my husband and I had been talking about moving to the Midland area. Some of our family members already resided in the general area, and we had talked with others about the possibility of moving closer, making the mid-state area something of a family hub.
In May of 2020 that was still in the planning phases. With the state, as well as parts of the country and the world, enduring COVID lockdowns, we were making some progress, but we had no idea what the next several months would bring. The people of our future hometown likely didn’t either.
On the evening of May 19, 2020, after heavy rains throughout the state, the Edenville Dam, located north of the city of Midland, failed. About an hour later, the Sanford Dam failed.
According to coverage of the dam breeches by Chemical City Paper the day following, the City of Midland’s website had issued this warning to its residents: “residents should seek higher ground as far east and west of the Tittabawassee River as possible, as the National Weather Service projected the river to crest at 38 feet today. That is about five feet over the current record-setting flood in 1986, which crested at 33.89 feet and was deemed “the worst natural disaster in the state’s modern history.'”
The governor, who still had the state on lockdown and hotels closed to all travelers with the exception of “essential workers” issued the following statement as recorded in Chemical City Paper: “We are anticipating a historic high-water level. This is unlike anything we’ve ever seen in Midland County,” she continued. If you have a family member or loved one in another part of the state, go there now.”
Though rains contributed to the situation to an extent, the dam breeches that occurred that day were much less a natural disaster than a man-made problem, and a problem that had been passed off for quite some time, the proverbial kicking the can down the road.
Unfortunately, the end of the road was closer than some wanted to believe, even though warnings such as the following, reported by the Detroit Free Press in 2017, had been issued: “The Michigan Department of Environmental Quality oversees 88 potential high-hazard damns in the state, and all but six of them are approaching or past 50 years old, the average engineered life span for a dam. Overall, more than 90 percent of Michigan’s nearly 2,600 dams will reach or exceed their design life by 2020, the American Society of Civil Engineers (ASCE) stated in a 2009 report.”
Warnings more than 10 years old were issued, but went unheeded, at least in the case of the Edenville and Sanford Dams. The estimates state that as many as 150 homes were a total loss while around 1,650 were damaged, and still about 640 more were deemed “otherwise effected.” Total damage estimates range from $175 million to $200 million.
It was in June of 2020, barely a month after the disaster, that we began to look for a house in Midland.
Crazy? Maybe.
As we drove around the city one June weekend after attending an open house for a small but nice house located outside of the flood area, we saw the piles and piles of soaked carped rolls, damaged furniture, and warped drywall sitting along the curb awaiting removal by a DPW that worked for months to remove the debris.
As we looked at listings throughout the summer, trying to find our forever home, we saw listing after listing of the gutted houses that were in need of almost complete rebuilding. We weren’t interested in renovating a flood-damaged house, but one realtor we had met the first day of our search, at an open house, had told us that all of those houses would need to meet not only city codes but also FEMA codes for flooding before they would be deemed to be habitable once again.
After we sold our house in our former city – surprisingly quickly – in August of 2020, we had settled in a nice apartment on the dry side of Midland. It was in October that we found the one. We’ve been living in our new home since December of last year.
As we sat in church this Sunday, May 16, 2021, we were reminded that it was one year ago this week that our now hometown experienced that devastating flood. The worship pastor prayed for residents of the city, still in recovery in many ways, committed to continuing to be involved with the recovery efforts, and joined the worship team as they sang “Goodness of God.”
Having settled here in the aftermath of the flood, and knowing that many of the people in the church had endured all of it, I experienced two specific thoughts about the events of last May.
First I felt proud of the church we now call “our” church.
When we moved into the apartment on that warm August morning, it would have been just my husband and me were it not for two younger and stronger assistant pastors from our church. They didn’t know us then, but they responded to my husband’s request for anyone willing to help us move in, for a decent pay per hour. They came and helped, declining any compensation. They told us that they had plenty of practice moving over the past several months as they did the physical work needed to help people clean out their damaged homes.
Not only has our church been helpful in contributing to the physical labor needed by residents to clean up after such a destructive event, but nearly every church in the area was involved in some way with helping residents through providing grab-and-go meals to household items to making monetary contributions.
I was reminded of something that Tim Keller, pastor and founder of the Redeemer Presbyterian congregations throughout New York City, says. He encourages churches to be so involved in helping with the tangible needs in the communities in which they are located that their departure would cause the local government great concern were they to have to leave the community, because of the void they would leave in meeting the needs of the community.
Though I have read that organizations such as United Way and the Red Cross were certainly involved in helping the residents of Midland, Sanford, and surrounding areas to recover after the flood, it seems to me that churches in the area also shone through in the way that Tim Keller described, based of course on the scriptural description of the way the church should demonstrate God’s love to a community in need.
Second, I thought about how fortunate we are to be where we are now.
It was the pandemic to a great extent that advanced our plan to relocate, by about a year. Yet the flood happened and could have threatened our plan. Instead we found ourselves in a community that has not only survived the flood, but it also seems to be thriving once again, just a year after the flood within the COVID response.
Following our anniversary dinner downtown just last week, we drove past the Tridge and along the river. My husband commented that it was hard to believe that the very parking lot through which we were driving had been under water just one year earlier. And the restaurant where we had dined was threatened by the water but was spared, though just barely, as it sat on higher ground.
If you look at the picture, you will see the green “ring.” That structure is located in the parking lot of the park where we drove last week after dinner.
Following “Goodness of God” the praise team led the church in “Do It Again.” The entire song is so appropriate, especially as they acknowledged a bit of somber anniversary, but part of the lyrics say, “You made a way where there was no way, and I believe I’ll see You do it again.” Indeed He did make a way, not only for the community, to a significant extent through believers, but He also made a way for us to become part of this dynamic community.
The Listener 