Thoughts that may be running through a #FloodBrain near you

Just in case you'd like a glimpse of what's running through the mind of your coworker or friend or cousin who flooded and whose eyes look so vacant 73% of the time, here you go:

1. Ooooh! I forgot to call {fill in the blank with very important person who must be called during business hours only, Monday through Friday only, about a time-sensitive, house-related project so that we can live in our house sooner vs. later}.
   
2. I've got to get my car tag for my new car since my old one flooded. But I can't keep running errands at lunch like this. That will take hours, I know. CALGON!
   
3. Did we use the last Walmart gift card the other day? People are SO nice! We don't deserve all this.
   
4. I wonder if my gym shorts survived. Heck, I wonder if my GYM survived.
   
5. Did we really get flooded? Surreal.
   
6. I have to focus!
   
7. I'm trying. I'm really trying.
   
8. Can {insert piece of furniture} be salvaged? I've gotta figure that out this week!
   
9. FO. CUS.
   
10. Did I thank so-and-so for that nice thing? I've GOT to do that!

My coworker calls it #floodbrain. 

Best. Description. Ever.

(But we really are trying.)

Life Lessons from Ringo: #laflood edition.

All I ever needed to know about coping with flooding, I learned from our dog.

While Michael and I struggle daily to handle Life After The Flood physically, mentally, emotionally and financially, don't worry, because Ringo is just.fine.

With that, I bring you a few observations straight from the beagle himself:

1. Toys are not essentials. You may have loved them, they may have occupied your time, and it may make you sad to see them in yucky mud, but when it comes down to it, toys are not the end game. Love, faith, friends and family are the biggest priorities.
2. Keep your personality. Even if others know what happened to you but they treat you kindly and normally, and you react with normalcy, guess what? NEW FRIEND!
3. Find the bright side. According to my dad, my food bowls and Kong toy were "total losses" (whatever that means), but because of going all these new places, I've smelled all kinds of interesting scents, met great friends, and adjusted to new locations. Change can be good, y'all.
4. Bloom where you're planted. Since the flood, I have been in three different friends' houses and I have loved every single one. My situation has not been the same in each place, and I have had to adjust, but there's something to be happy about everywhere. Also, if people don't love
   
   me, I just keep going. MY people love me. That's what matters. Right?
5. Schedules are important, yo. Even if your house is uninhabitable, don't let anyone or anything keep you from eating and sleeping (even those pesky humans and their "priorities"). 

Ringo is always happy to add insight to life adventures, and you can often see him smiling on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook. Find him using the hashtag #heyringo. 

Much love from Baton Rouge!

Beautiful, precious life.

Jen Hatmaker's For the Love:
hilarious and insightful

This time last year, I couldn't imagine life getting much better.

Disembarking from a cruise ship where Michael and I honeymooned, I immediately flew to  Austin to meet 500 of my closest friends. (So that may be an exaggeration. It was more like 200, I think.) But I really did go straight from our honeymoon, which sounds as weird now as it did then. But Michael was all for it, and it was a rare opportunity. What a way to start a marriage, right?

In the spring of 2015, my sister excitedly let me know about Jen Hatmaker's new book and a chance to be on her launch team. Pre-read the book, share quotes on social media -- this is all right up  my alley! Except I had just gotten engaged and was planning a wedding. And a purge-and-merge with Michael. And my manager was on maternity leave, so I was essentially doing two jobs.

A few of my peeps: Amanda (who just
got engaged!), Carey, and Brenna. 

With all that in mind, I let the application slide off my radar and kept at my life. Then Kim reminded me about the application during a rare moment of quietude, and I thought, all right, sure. What are the chances, anyway? So I applied.

I was pretty surprised when I was asked to be on the launch team (with 499 others - lol), but not as surprised as I continue to be that this community of women (and #bandoffour guys) are as often my sharing ground as my own family and close groups of friends.

Over the past year and a half, our relationships with each other and Jesus have strengthened as we have watched each other bloom, grieve, learn, have babies, put closure to old relationships, start new ones, put a ring on it, grow in our careers, take some scary adventures, and go through literal hail and high water...not to mention tornadoes, wildfires, and plenty of other natural and unnatural disasters.

Chatting it up. With
one of my favorite authors.
In her backyard. As we do. 

When I was looking at a job change, they prayed with and advised me through it consistently. When I (often) do the wrong thing as a newlywed and a daughter and a friend and a sister, they counsel and laugh and help me through the down days, encouraging me toward the better ones. When I need a recipe, they're my go-to! And whoever thinks speed dial is outdated in 2016 hasn't seen my iPhone Favorites list increase with #forthelove after several key names. (But obvs we text instead of calling.)

We make it a point to see each other when we're traveling through each others' towns or states. (Shout out, Michelle, Terri, Andrea!) We text before big events and outfit purchases and new makeup adventures because that's what real friends do and the fun shouldn't stop in high school. (Hey, hey Amberly.) And we comfort and console the biggest and smallest of woes, because WWJD, right? (Love y'all, Gwendolyn, Shannon.)

My girl, in our own Buda, Texas, Stars
Hollow-esque gazebo. This Ohio soul
sista, Amberly, makes me smile daily.

One year ago today, some of us were able to meet in person at the author's house, but even that nice little time wasn't the real peak of this group.

These people, whom I met because we all love God and like to have fun, have become quite the community of fashion advisers, exercise coaches, relationship therapists, prayer warriors, meme extraordinaires, keepers of the hashtags, prompters to write better, and so much more. The best part is, they love my husband and dog as much (or more than!) they love me. How's that for amazing?

Now, a year into marriage and three weeks after a historic flood ruined the majority of our belongings, I can't imagine life getting much better.

Sure, the Maricellis of Baton Rouge have seen calmer days, and we have certainly had more to our names than we do at present. But along with our in-real-life church, families and friends, both Michael and I could not be more grateful for the launch team, #the500, this community. We have experienced support and love from total strangers long before this devastating event, but since then, even when the future is uncertain, the love has been astounding.

I am grateful to get to do life with these women and #bandoffour men, and I am proud that they are part of my beautiful, precious life.

(And obviously, I fully acknowledge to my sister: you were right. Always!)

Save it for a rainy day: How #Groupon is helping us in the #laflood

Disclaimer: This is a sponsored post. All opinions are mine.

While you can't save and hold value of a coupon (or Groupon) forever, you can certainly purchase and redeem a Groupon in times of need, which help with the financial burden and peace of mind for both you and your house.

Currently, I'm sitting in Not My Own House, at Not My Own Address, and am at heightened awareness about any money I spend (thanks, #laflood!). And because of how the unprecedented weather and subsequent effects in Baton Rouge in the past few weeks have impacted my family, I find myself trying to save pennies and nickels and dollars now more than ever.

But thanks to Groupon, even though our house flooded recently, we have been able to indulge in some creature comforts and replacements such as these Groupon Goods without needing to spend additional money, which is a tremendously huge relief.

And, also thanks to Groupon, we can treat ourselves to eating out occasionally by having an indulgence and feeling normal while not being so limited as we were before all this.

It's been a nice reprieve to the shock.

I've been Grouponing for years. The Louisiana flood may be a rare occurrence, but saving money is vital and necessary in real life, especially in times of crisis.

Unprecedented: How the Louisiana Flood Seeped Into Our City, Home and Hearts

Unprecedented.

That's the word I kept seeing to describe the flood waters and the back flow that crept into Baton Rouge last weekend, turning my sweet, fun-loving city into a crest of the unknown, and then into a smelly row of debris piles.

Once meteorologists and city officials led us with the term, it became a key word around here:

We've had an unprecedented amount of rainfall...

The parish and surrounding areas are seeing an unprecedented amount of flooding...

This crisis is, aside from hurricanes, completely unprecedented for the state of Louisiana...



Our neighborhood, when we came home
Sunday after evacuating Saturday night.
I took this picture and am standing at the
street corner, about 8 houses from ours.
The guys you see are our friend Scott and
Michael, waist-deep in water. They have
just been to our house for the first time.

When my husband and I got back to our home of one year and one week the day after we evacuated, we saw that the meteorologists and city officials were right: this flooding and back flow were, indeed, unprecedented.

Parking at least a mile away, we passed tired, tearstained, sunburned faces pushing children in Target shopping carts and knew we had made the right decision to leave the night before. What we couldn't have imagined was that our home, some forty feet above sea level, could have taken water. After passing boats still rescuing our neighbors and wading through knee- and hip-deep water into our subdivision, we learned that not only was water in our house, it was in it nearly two feet high.

Thankful for the gracious friends who had insisted we come to their house but still fearful of the unknown, we waited two days for the water to recede. Once it did, we faced the devastating truth that our area, once laughed at for no flood insurance due to its high elevation, was now sitting in two to four feet of water.

Unprecedented, indeed.

Half of our neighborhood looked like our house. Much of Baton Rouge is the same. The stench, we fear, will never leave our noses.

The two quiet towns east of us, Denham Springs and Walker, and a lovely town northwest of us, Zachary, are badly damaged. No one we know doesn't have some kind of story about someone losing everything.

For Baton Rouge, that is unprecedented.

But also unprecedented, we noticed immediately, were the calls, texts, Facebook messages, and outreaches to us and our families on our behalf checking on us. People drove by our house, trying to see if we were all right and offering assistance. One of our best friends came right away, and seeing our shell shocked faces, whipped up a team from our church to help clean up the debris the next day. She also insisted on setting up a Go Fund Me account for us, and secured our storage unit.

The same friends who are housing us didn't ask, but prepared meals for us every day and night, and could not if they tried ever make us feel more at home. Their son, our ring bearer just a year and a week before, greets us every time we walk in with an enthusiastic, "Hey Michael! Hey Rebekah! Hey Ringo!"

Probably most unprecedented for me is the way I see our neighborhood coming together. The night before the flooding, when Michael was checking the drainage ditch every 30 minutes, he would mention, "Rick said so-and-so" or "Robbie mentioned this," and I was all, "Um, is that the neighbor?" Today, to quote Nan, I would know our whole street if I saw 'em on th' big road, hon-ey. I think that's how it's supposed to be. But still, it's unprecedented.

The majority of our things are in a pile on our street. I know that's not the most important thing in life; the most important thing is that we are safe and healthy and together. But the furniture that Michael's granddad made and the things Nan gave me can never be replaced, and so we grieve because while those things are just things, they are our things that are precious to us.

We have just been married a year, so many of our registry items were nearly brand new. Those were just things, but we picked them out together to start our life together, and they are ruined, and it was kind of sad to throw them on the heaping pile of soggy trash in front of our once nice and neat neighborhood.

All of this, for us, is certainly unprecedented.

But also unprecedented is the overwhelming compassion we feel for one another. I am more protective of this man I married than I ever dreamed possible. I have butterflies like I did when we said "I love you" and got engaged and got married, only they've grown. Maybe they're more advanced butterflies now? I'm not sure. Unprecedented, certainly.

We are absolutely blown away by our church, and The Church. The sheer love we have seen from our friends, family, church family and people who don't even know us is just, well, overwhelming. As Michael said to me on like Day 2, "You know these people love Jesus, but when you see them doing for you what He would do for you, it's just a completely different chapter of the story."

And he's right. It is. It is an unprecedented love we've been shown.

It has only been eight days since the Louisiana flood seeped into our city, and our home, and our hearts. And while it's going to be quite a journey without flood insurance, we are forever grateful for this unprecedented love we are encountering.

One thing is for sure: the circle will certainly not be broken. We will pay this unprecedented kindness forward.

 https://www.gofundme.com/becomingmaricelli

Wordless Wednesday: In the Mist.