Texas Hill Country: A Story of Texas Resilience

Texas Hill Country: A Story of Texas Resilience

Written by Brandi Chrisenberry

As the world shifts its focus to the next news cycle, we’re still reflecting on the devastation caused by the Hill Country floods. We want to take a moment to honor those who have quietly sacrificed so much to be there and support. Beginning with a first-hand account from one of our partners at Heroes for Humanity

"As I drove alone in silence and the first sign of the demolished riverbank appeared, it was almost eerily beautiful. Trees bent into odd unnatural shapes. Metal boats completely mangled into strange almost art-like creations. Roads, concrete, and entire structures wiped away and nature emerging as if it had been waiting patiently underneath all along. A loud silence in the steady rain, so heavy it pressed on my chest.

I watched search and rescue divers enter waters most of us wouldn’t even dip a toe into. Some with a strong and steady, rock-solid confidence. Some with shaking hands and a jaw set in determined grit.

I watched dogs and their handlers play like the weight of the world wasn’t on their backs—then slip silently into search mode with focus that gave me chills.

I watched rescue veterans, divers, firefighters come out of the water, wet with river and loss, and speak of the child they recovered, or the young girl the day before—not with theatrics, but with reverence and heartbreak.

They got IVs.

They got sandwiches.

They got their laundry done.

They got their feet washed. Literally.

I watched women and men who could snap bones in combat or dive into God-knows-what… let someone care for them. I sat speechless, when Strong and Steady Hands quietly admits that this one was getting to him and he was struggling to keep his emotions under control. And I realized — this is true masculinity. The kind we won’t see in movies.

"I watched people stay. Not because they had to. Not for money. Not for glory. But because something inside wouldn’t let them leave. Because the work wasn’t done. Because somebody’s Someone was still out there.

And I saw support crews show up too—people who came to do the “little” things that are actually everything. Nurses giving hydration, relaxation and comradery. Companies gifting sunglasses, boots, essential gear and equipment. Offers of laundry. Meals made from scratch. Meals brought in. Trash brought out. Needs you’d never think of. Provision and care you could never imagine. All the while, the gentle grumbling from the team antsy to “get back out” and get back to it.

And all around them — the world is watching.

I’ve heard this story has reached from Africa to Australia and everywhere in between. And I couldn’t help but ask myself why this tragedy is holding people’s gaze. We all have gotten so used to seeing heartbreak around the world. Why is this one touching our hearts so deeply?

But I think maybe it’s because this tragedy has something more than just heartbreak.

I think it’s the light that keeps showing up in the middle of all the darkness.

Maybe it’s the proof that goodness is still out there — muddy, scraped-up, emotions frayed and body worn thin — but refusing to quit. Maybe it’s simply knowing there’s people that will go where it’s ugly, where it hurts, where the news trucks leave too quickly. And stay. Not for credit. Not for headlines. But because it’s the right thing to do.

You just show up.

You just stay.

You love. No explanation why. No explanation needed.

This isn’t a post asking for anything. This isn’t a plea.

It’s just a portrait, a story — as one of us, looking in. And this view of humanity is beautiful even in the sadness. It’s one where people show up for one another without fanfare. Where we all get a little mud and grit on our souls just from seeing the photos. From witnessing the stories unfold.

It’s a story of what happens when humanity doesn’t run away from tragedy… but runs toward it.

And brings Heaven with them."