City of Trees

City of Trees

Cedar Rapids, Iowa, Before Derecho

City of Trees.

Lush green canopy wrapped around the city.

Abundant Cooling shade.

Birds singing,

Squirrels scampering up trees,

Butterflies flitting about.

Life amidst COVID-19.

Cedar Rapids, Iowa, During Derecho.

Monday, August 10, 2020.

Derecho winds of 120-140 mph.

Few had even heard of derecho.

Little to no warning.

Everyone caught off guard.

Cedar Rapids, Iowa, After Derecho

Trees downed. Homes and businesses damaged or destroyed.

Roofs torn off. Trees crushed buildings. Walls collapsed.

Leaves stripped, plastered on the remains of buildings.

The smell of gas leaking from broken gas lines all around the city.

Phones down. Internet down.

Huge debris piles, blocked roads,  communications lost.

The entire city as if an atomic bomb exploded.

Mile after mile, unrelenting destruction.

Lives miraculously spared.

Families living on top of debris.

Elderly and disabled stranded.

Cut off. Alone.

Heat. Humidity. Spoiled food.

Trees gone. Gardens gone. Lawns gone.

Homes gone. Businesses gone.

New sounds of sirens, chainsaws, and hammers.

New sights of breathtaking sunsets, starry nights, bright moonlight,

neighbors helping neighbors.

Families come from afar to try to help.

Children, adults, and the elderly all tackle cleanup together.

How do you eat an elephant?

One bite at a time.

How do you clean up after a derecho?

One stick at a time.

Finally, Help arrived.

Eight Days of Hope. Samaritans Purse. Mercy Chefs.

Linemen from across the country and Canada.

National Guard.

Big groups. Small groups. Families. Individuals  All come to help.

News media ignore Iowa.

Politicians ignore the crisis.

The governor visits and leaves.

The President visits but never leaves the airport.

Politicians fail.

Anger rises.

Food and water giveaways.

Supply giveaways.

Hero’s emerge.

Villains emerge.

Love emerges.

Gratitude emerges.

Citizens applaud volunteers who come to help.

Cedar Rapids, Iowa, Eight weeks later

A new normal has emerged.

The city appears naked,

it’s beautiful garment shredded,

lying in tatters.

An estimated 100,000 trees lost.

Thousands more remain with major damage.

Power is restored.

Roads are cleared.

Stoplights and stop signs are back up.

Fewer streets lined with debris.

New mountains of mulch arise

Blue tarps atop damaged roofs.

Tree stumps everywhere.

Workmen with Saws and hammers work long hours.

Parks closed indefinitely.

Cemeteries full of downed trees and gravestones,

Destruction on top of death.

Everyone fighting against time.

Stress is high.

Winter is coming.

Widowmakers hang from damaged trees.

Roofs leak. Walls leak. Windows leak.

Not enough lumber.

Not enough shingles.

Not enough contractors.

Not enough tree men.

Not enough time.

Not enough money.

A landscape changed forever.

A city changed forever.

New views.

New relationships.

Hope remains.

Iowa strong.

Cedar Rapids strong.

Strong.

Not invincible.

Strong.

Not untouchable.

Yet Hope remains.

Pray for Cedar Rapids.

Pray for Iowa.

Pray for our country.

Pray.