A personal story-August 12, 2017

It has taken me a while to decide to post this story on this blog. It will involve my personal feelings and perhaps not everybody wants to read those. But I want to tell the story.

I will address the picture later in the story.

It's the entrance to the Big Thompson Canyon.

 

 

Many years ago, in July, 1976 to be exact, we set our wedding date as July 31. Then we went to the Goldsmith in Manitou Springs to have matching wedding bands made. We proceeded with the plans for a very small wedding. We had reservations in Estes Park, Colorado. The Goldsmith called and said he was behind schedule so our rings would be a week late. He offered to send us plain gold bands to use for the ceremony. We declined because the wedding was so small it was just as easy to change the date. So we moved the ceremony to August 6th.

On the evening of July 31, 19 inches of rain fell in a very short period of time in the Big Thompson Canyon. That's the route to Estes Park. Two normally small rivers met at Drake and formed a 19 foot tall wall of water. You must try to visualize a wall of raging water that tall. That wall of water roared through the canyon taking with it years of history, miles of beauty and many, many people. The total has never really been determined but it was definitely confirmed that at least 160+ people were drowned in that flood. Entire communities were washed off the face of the earth. It was truly a flood of Biblical proportions. Most of the country never knew it happened. But we definitely knew it and we were affected by it.

Looking back we know we would have been in the Big Thompson Canyon at the time that flood began. We could have easily been among those hundreds of cars washed down the canyon with people still inside and the headlights still on. It could have been. But it was not in God's plan for us to be there. Hence, the delay by the Goldsmith. All part of God's plan. Had we been there we know there would not have been a Derrick. And there would not have been Hannah, Zoey and Daisy. This is the really difficult part of the story to me. Even all these years later I get very, very emotional just writing about this.

Now for the picture. That pipe going across the picture is a syphon tube which carries water from Lake Estes to the eastern plains. It is vital to the existence of the people east of the Rockies. That syphon tube was washed away by that huge wall of water. Does that help explain how much water I am talking about? I cannot wrap my mind around what that would have looked like. And I am eternally grateful I did not have to see that much water. At the time I did not see the hand of God writing His plan for my life. But I sure see it now.

Another note. The reason there was never a final total on lives lost is because some people were not drowned in tact. All the way on our farm there were small body parts that washed in with the irrigation water. No way to put them all together. So souls were lost and no one knows who they are. That's emotional, too.

A couple of weeks later we found a way to get to Estes Park along with many other people. The town of Estes Park was not damaged. It was above the flood. A large number of us were standing on a corner waiting on the light to change when a wrecker pulling a car turned the corner in front of us. The car had no windows left and muddy water was pouring out of every opening spilling onto the street in front of us. The impact of that sight left every single one of us speechless and holding our breath. Not a sound was heard. This, too, is emotional for me. We all knew that represented a family or at least one person who probably did not survive the flood. It's forever etched in my mind.

I am sorry for the length of this true story. I actually shortened it in spots. I just felt it needed to be shared.