It had been raining for days on end.
My husband and I lived in the countryside in South Texas on a 10-acre property by a small creek. He was in the military at that time (1997), and a friend of his also stayed with us temporarily, going through a divorce.
At that time, I was running an animal rescue for farm animals, including horses, cows, chickens, bunnies, dogs, cats, and goats.
Puddles started to form on the pasture, and we watched in awe as the fire ants created floating carpet-like structures with the ants piled up on top like a small mount. They constantly rotated so the ones at the bottom wouldn’t drown. It was amazing in its own creepy way. The fire ants were ferocious, swarming anything the structure bumped into within seconds.
If you have ever been bitten by a single fire ant, you can imagine what a swarm would feel like.
Naturally, we stayed clear of them and didn’t pay the weather any more attention, even though we could hear thunder in the distance.
We went to bed early, and I woke up a few times from the rumbling thunder. But I just crawled deeper under the blanket and kept on sleeping.
In the morning, I got up and went half-conscious to the sink to get water for coffee when my eye caught some movement outside the window.
I took a closer look and was horrified! My flowerpots outside were bobbing in the water, which had already reached a third of the 5 steps leading to our front door!
Where I usually saw the edge of the creek 50 ft from the house, there was nothing but water.
I ran to the other side of the house to look out the back, hoping that, since the property goes slightly uphill, the water hadn’t reached behind the house. But boy, was I wrong.
Again, I saw nothing but water, and the current was getting faster and faster. I saw one of my cows, who was tied down overnight so she wouldn’t escape (she always found a way!), jumping around, trying to free herself.
With adrenaline pumping and fully awake by then, I ran to wake up my husband. I stormed through the bedroom door, hollering, “Wake up, wake up! The creek is here!”
He looked up and went, “What?” and turned his head to look out of the window. Within a second, he was out of bed and ran to the other side of the house to wake up his friend.
We tried to figure out the best plan. Should we stay? Should we get out? Would the water rise further? Would it come into the house? Were the animals in danger? What should we do???
The answer became clear quite quickly when the water started seeping through the front door. It had risen the remaining 2 steps within 10 minutes! So we had to get out since it was just a wooden structure, not a brick house.
Seeing that the water had reached far above the tires of our car and truck, we didn’t even consider trying to drive out of there. But with the current being so strong, all the debris bobbing around in it, and most of all, those floating fire ant mounts, I was scared beyond belief!
But we also had animals to take care of, and that’s when my survival mode kicked in. Everything suddenly became crystal clear, and a really scary calmness came over me.
My husband and his buddy went out and let the horses and cows out but couldn’t get to the cow that was tied down. They had to leave her and hope for the best, that she, for once, makes use of her escape skills. Unfortunately, she didn’t survive that day. However, all the other animals did.
The guys made it back to the house where I had put our three dogs on leashes. I had stuffed the two cats into a large military backpack along with insurance papers (I can’t believe I actually thought of that!) and then turned off the electricity because the water was about to reach the electrical outlets in the house.
My husband took the two bigger dogs, Huskies, and I grabbed the smaller one, a 20 lbs mutt, while our buddy took the backpack with the cats, and out we went.
We had to make it about 40 ft to the iron gate, which we then somehow would need to open against the current and make it another 100 ft uphill towards the main road with a church on the other side. The church was on dry ground.
Right across from the gate was our neighbors’ property with a brick house.
The first step into the water almost knocked me off my feet already. It reached up to my chest, and debris was hitting me from all sides. I struggled and slipped a few times, but I kept looking into my dog’s eyes… she seemed to be begging me not to let her go, not to let her die… just that look in her eyes gave me strength, and we made it to the gate okay.
But it was totally impossible to open it against the current, which was pushing us against the iron bars.
The rushing water was so loud; we could not hear each other even though we shouted as loud as we could.
Our buddy managed to climb over the gate and got down on the other side, took one step, and screamed. I looked up, and all I saw was the backpack going underwater, and that was that. He had completely disappeared.
I then remembered that the road goes downhill for about 10 ft before it starts going up, and he must have gotten caught up in that.
I remember wondering if he had drowned along with the cats and felt bad that I didn’t have any room to worry about it, finding myself in the position to be fighting for my own life.
We looked further up the road and saw our neighbor’s truck hanging in a tree, and our neighbors standing above in the branches, waving at us not to come this way.
They pointed towards their house, motioning us to cross the road instead and try to find safety there.
My husband was still holding onto the dogs, even though they were biting at him now in full panic mode, but after a minute, he regained control again.
He managed to climb over the gate and actually made it across to the neighbor’s gate, which opened with the current, so it was an easy task.
Then it was my turn.
I let go of my dog’s leash so my husband could catch her, and I had my hands free to hold onto the gate. He grabbed her, and once I saw she was safe, I took a deep breath and stepped onto the gate.
I managed to get one leg over the top of the gate when a huge piece of debris came out of nowhere. It looked like a piece of roof or wall, and it knocked me right over the gate.
I struggled, tried to regain my footing again, but all my feet hit was debris and rocks and swirling water that pulled my legs in different directions.
To my horror, I saw one of those fire ant mounds approaching and swarming the piece of debris that knocked me off the gate and was floating only a couple of feet in front of me. I wanted to grab it and hold on to it, but that plan was out of the question now.
I started to swallow water, my clothes wearing me down, the water pulling me forward and under, and then a piece of wood hit me right in the temple. I didn’t feel pain, but I saw actual colorful stars everywhere around me.
I was completely disoriented and don’t remember the complete details of the next few seconds. My husband said I went under with a big smile on my face.
All I remember was how calm I felt. How I knew I was going to die, and instead of panicking, as I always expected I would when facing death in such a dramatic way, I immediately came to terms with it and felt nothing but peace, even relief.
For 25 years, since this happened, I have tried to find the right words to describe the following, and this is the best I could explain what I felt:
I need to mention upfront that I am not religious nor do I believe in any God, higher power, or any paranormal stuff for that matter. To me, it’s all fiction. No offense to anyone who does believe. I simply have no need to judge anyone based on religion, race, culture, or whatever.
Back to the experience:
I didn’t see a tunnel or anything like that. I don’t think I saw anything in pictures. It was more impressions, feelings, knowing undeniable facts, and pure reality, not clouded by the human ego mainly expressed in fears, excuses, justifications, arrogance, greed, entitlement, and so forth. You get the idea. It felt as if my ego was switched off.
You often hear the phrase “My entire life flashed before my eyes in just seconds.” That’s a little how I experienced it, with one big difference. It was not my life that flashed through my mind; it was the life of every single person I ever touched and made a difference to. Good or bad, big or small, it didn’t matter.
I felt what they felt, not my own feelings. (Maybe this is what is called, in religious terms, the big judgment?)
I got to feel my mother’s devastation when I ran away from home. I felt my friend’s disappointment when I didn’t stick up for her. I felt my father’s anger when I lied to him. I felt my grandma’s sadness when I stole from her. I felt my ex’s broken heart when I broke it off with him. I felt the kid’s helplessness when I was mean to him. The list is endless.
There was no “But, but, but.” I KNEW I messed up. Period. I had to take that responsibility, and I gladly accepted it. It was heavy. It was dark. It was suffocating and painful.
But then the “flashback movie” continued and switched over to the more pleasant differences I made.
I always thought the most important, somewhat heroic thing I ever did was run into a burning four-story house with leaking gas, waking up eight families and helping them get out safely.
Nope. I got to experience the big “what if.” What would have happened if I had not been there? Turned out they all would have gotten out without my interference just fine.
The most important thing I ever did was… wait for it… smiling at the cashier at the supermarket one day.
Again, here’s the “what if.” What would have happened if I had not smiled at her?
She would not have smiled in return at the person behind me. That person would not have snapped out of his train of thought, which was a second away from becoming a solid plan to go home and shoot his wife, son, and then himself. He didn’t.
Of course, I have played with the thought that my brain has just been going haywire and filled in bits and pieces to complete a satisfying scenario. I don’t know.
There is so much that is not known about our brain. Maybe we can see the “what ifs” under certain circumstances.
In any case, the lesson I am taking away from this is to quit being an entitled bitch and smile more at people. It’s free, doesn’t hurt, and can actually save a life, even if you won’t know it. But wouldn’t you smile a lot more, thinking it has the potential to do so?
Back to 1997:
The next thing I remember, I was hanging over the neighbor’s gate with my upper back facing the sky. My husband was shaking my shoulders, pounding on my chest, and shouting at me.
He somehow managed to get a hold of me about a minute or two after I went under. He pulled me out and made some attempts at CPR while standing himself up to his neck in the water. He had tied the dog leashes to the gate, but they were struggling to keep their heads above water.
I was dazed, spitting, and coughing out water. My husband started pulling on me, pointing towards the house, just a few feet away. Behind the house, there was actually a ladder going up to the roof! The neighbor had forgotten to put it away the day before when he was working on the roof. We managed to cover the few feet over to it. The current was much less behind the house, so we were able to climb the ladder without much of a problem, even with the dogs.
Finally, up on the roof, we looked around hoping to see our buddy somewhere, but we could not locate him. Then we saw the neighbors cheering at us, realizing with shock how fast the water had risen by that time. I could see their scared faces as they hung onto that tree. They had tied a towel around a big branch to hold on, and it was raining harder and harder, with the water constantly rising.
I looked over to our house and saw that the water was up to about 5 feet inside, and some of the walls were giving way. I sat down on the roof shingles and didn’t know what to think or feel. I was still trying to process everything I had just gone through. But what’s next?
I looked over to my husband and asked, “Now what? Is somebody going to come looking for us? How do they know we are here? How long is this going to last? How much higher is this water going to get?” He just shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, looking kind of hopeless.
And that’s what it looked like: water everywhere we looked. The sky above us darkened again, and we saw lightning and heard thunder. The wind picked up, and we could see funnels forming. The water got higher and louder, and we watched half a barn swim by and crash into the house underneath us. What’s it gonna be? Getting hit by lightning? Getting pummeled by hail? Getting blown off the roof? Maybe I’ll drown again for good? Oh, let me top that! There’s a gas smell coming from the house now. Maybe we’ll blow up first!
An hour into this ordeal, we were shivering, even the dogs, because it was quite chilly, not really cold. But our skin was wrinkled from the water, and the rain started to hurt too. No adrenaline lasts forever to keep you warm.
I kept looking around for our buddy… when I finally saw him! He had made it up into a tree and stood there on a branch, hanging onto another, the backpack still on his back. He waved, and I thought I could see him grin.
After about another hour watching the water rise and rise, tearing our house to pieces, watching our furniture bop by, and trying to stop shivering, the water reached the overhang of the roof. I started to feel really weird… I got angry… VERY ANGRY. Because I also saw cats, raccoons, armadillos, sheep, and all sorts of animals floating by, fighting for their lives, losing it right in front of me but outside of my reach, hearing their screams, and watching our neighbors fighting their panic, because by now they had to hold on pretty tight to that towel around that branch. Both of them. We still didn’t know if somebody was going to come and rescue us.
After three hours of watching the animals die around us, houses, barns, and whatever else were floating by, smashing into the house we sat on, I thought I saw some yellow lights flashing through the trees up by the farm road. It shouldn’t still be under water. It was then that I saw one of my horses pushing through the water, the nose barely sticking out. She made her way by the house we sat on, looking up as if saying, “Don’t you worry, I’ll make it.” I jumped up and cheered, shouting, “Go, girl, go!” She managed to find a place that was a bit higher than the others. Her head and half her neck were out of the water, and that’s where she remained.
I started to regain my hope because I realized that I had given up hope of rescue and was actually considering throwing myself back into the water. It was so peaceful… Leave it to the animals to give you back hope!
It took yet another hour before we could see that people were trying to reach us with cranes. But not even the cranes could withstand the current by that time; it was too strong. So hopes were rising and falling…10,000 times a minute. The gas smell had vanished, and so did the rain after a while. I didn’t even notice; I just sat there staring, spacing out.
Then I heard a helicopter, and it was actually flying towards us! I jumped up, and my husband and I waved at them like crazy. That’s when I realized it was a friggin’ news helicopter filming us! It circled around us, and I was just pissed! I flipped them the finger and sat down, putting my dog back under my t-shirt. I hugged her and my knees tightly, trying not to lose it.
My husband looked at me with big eyes and said, “You didn’t just flip them off, did you?” I looked at him innocently, and somehow we both had to laugh for a second.
And as ironic as life is, the helicopter came closer and closer until it was almost hovering over the roof. It had a steep angle, so it couldn’t land. The wind and the noise were tremendous, even louder than the water, which hadn’t gone down at all, even though it had stopped raining half an hour before. We found out later that it kept raining hard upstream and the other streams were feeding into the one we sat in.
I looked over to my neighbors and saw that they were covered with water up to their chests, constant pressure against them… and I wondered how much longer they could possibly hold on. Our buddy seemed to be exhausted but fine.
We tried to point the helicopter towards the neighbors because, compared to them, we were relatively safe… but the guy in the back of the helicopter just made some gestures at us, which my husband understood. He wanted us to break down the antenna on that roof. Then I finally believed that they actually were trying to rescue us and had seen the neighbors but couldn’t get to them… too many trees.
So my husband started working on that antenna to get it off while I was fighting the wind from the helicopter. I was SO COLD. Everything went so fast… my husband had the antenna down, and the guy in the back of the helicopter gestured to me to duck and get up and come towards him but to keep low.
I pointed at my dogs and shook my head no. I am not going anywhere without my dog. The guy, who turned out to be the sheriff, nodded and waved at me. I tried to get up, but no way I could get up against THAT wind, as exhausted and bruised up as I was. But my husband pushed me up, and I managed to stagger across the roof.
The helicopter was hovering like 10 inches above the roof… I tried to climb up but missed the step and hung on one of the skids when a little wind pushed the helicopter a few feet to the left. I seriously thought of James Bond right there and then, hehe.
The sheriff managed to grab the back of my shorts and pulled me up a bit, giving me a nice wedgie, and grabbed my dog too. I was half in, half out of the helicopter, holding onto the seat the sheriff sat on with my feet on the skids, and the thing took off. I tried to communicate with the sheriff about my neighbors and our buddy in the trees, but it was useless.
I looked down and around, and there was water everywhere. The only dry place around was the place where the church stood. Everything else was underwater as far as I could see in all directions. It turned out later that 11 counties were underwater. All the folks that managed to get out, along with the rescue teams, were gathered around the church, cheering for our rescue, waiting with blankets and food and hot coffee and hugs.
The helicopter ride took less than a minute. He sat me down and flew back to get my husband. Ten minutes later, my husband on a rescue boat. Three, four hours later, the water started to subside, and we went looking for missing people and animals, brushing through the cornfields, knowing that behind every plant there could be a dead body. Thankfully, I was spared that experience. Sadly, 11 people lost their lives that day, including my neighbors, a married couple in their 30s.
I lost everything but the shirt on my back and my animals. FEMA helped us out a lot, and we got off to a brand new start somewhere else. Twenty-five years later, I can say that this was the best thing that ever happened to me. The insights I gained are invaluable.
Thank you for letting me share this, and remember:
A smile is the most important thing in life .
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