Telling Nashville's Story

I never know what to say when people ask me where I'm from. A part of me wants to answer, "I'm a Mississippi girl," because the truth is that I've spent the vast majority of my life in the Magnolia State. But another part of me wants to answer, "Nashville," because that's where my parents live. It's where I learned to drive. Where I went to high school. Where I spent a summer working. Where I was baptized {again}. Where I accepted a call to ministry. Where I spend holidays. It's the place I go when I go home.

So you can imagine how absolutely horrifying it is to see pictures of a submerged Music City in facebook pictures and on youtube. It breaks my heart to see the city that I love so much under water.


photo courtesy of Rachael Moore

It's shocking to view pictures of the Opryland Hotel literally filled with water.

I never took Micah there.

Just a week and a half ago, we spent the weekend in Nashville visiting with the fam, and we spent a day at Opry Mills. Stacy {my sister} mentioned going to the Hotel so we could take a few pictures. But by the time we finished shopping, Micah was cranky, we were all tired, and we piled into the van and went home.

It's something I regret now.

Because the Hotel's gorgeous atrium is now a swamp.


Photo courtesy of Stephen Lee

And what fan of country music wouldn't be dismayed to see this image from the Opry house?


Photo courtesy of The Grand Ole Opry

Billions of dollars worth of damage. Dozens of lives lost. Thousands of lives changed. An entire city devastated by the monumental amount of rain that deluged the city over the weekend.

Let's not forget all the people who are going to need help recovering from this disaster. Let's not ignore the devastation of a 1,000-year flood. Let's not pretend that nothing happened.

Let's remember.

And let's do something about it.

Let's tell Nashville's story.

Let's give our money.

Let's give our time.

Let's give our attention.

Let's give our love.

Let's give our prayers.

Until next time, grace and peace.

How High's the Water, Mama?

How high's the water, mama?Five feet high and risin' How high's the water, papa? Five feet high and risin'

Well, the rails are washed out north of town We gotta head for higher ground We can't come back till the water comes down, Five feet high and risin'

Well, it's five feet high and risin'

{Johnny Cash: Five Feet High and Risin'}

Unless you've been stuck under a rock for the past few days, you know that it's a little...soggy...down here in the southeast. It's not so bad here in North Mississippi, although we did get stuck in Corinth yesterday when we were trying to get home from Starkville. Water flooded the main thoroughfare, and we were hardpressed to get through. We finally made it home, but only after we backtracked out of Corinth, drove south to Rienzi and turned east again.

I don't guess I'll be going to Kroger to do my grocery shopping this week. Or anytime soon.

It's wet down here. And at home. Home is Franklin, Tennessee, a suburb of Nashville.

Don't worry, my parents haven't floated away yet.

But that's only because they live at the top of a hill.

Seriously, though. Downtown Nashville is a mess. It's strange to see images of home flash across the news. It's going to be a long time before life is back to normal up there.

The buckets of rain that God poured on us over the weekend washed away most of our plans to watch Mississippi State play baseball, but we were able to get in some good eating at some of our favorite Starkville restaurants. We played with our niece and nephew and visited with the family. It was nice.

But I'm glad to be home. And I'm thankful that our house is nice, and safe and dry. No more travels for a while. Next time, people are coming to us.

That means that I should probably clean the bathrooms this week.

Just wanted to let you know that we're high and dry here in Iuka.

Until next time, grace and peace.