This week had an unfortunate reminder about exactly what water would do when given the opportunity. TLDR: It looked somewhat like a flooded basement.
Picture this - a record-setting wet four months, between rain, rain, rain, an early and unusual 9" of snow, and more rain. The ground is beyond saturated. If you enjoy the feeling of water squishing between your toes, you'll love my front yard. It's gross.
Now picture a small leak at the piping in the basement where the sewer line exits and the water line enters the house. Husband notices the leak starting to become more substantial and isolated it to the water main. Positioning a bucket under it, he wisely schedules a plumber to come by on Thursday.
After I tuck the kids into bed, I study the situation. I thoughtfully decide that the shelving immediately next to the pipe should be moved out of the way to give the plumber space to work. I move several hundred pounds of boxes, mostly containing old documents, bills, and children's schoolwork, then start tugging the shelf across the room. It is uneventful.
Until I decide to wiggle the leaking pipe fitting. Maybe I can tighten up the loose connection.
Cue chaos and mayhem. In my own words, "I f**ked up."
The pipe starts spraying water in all directions with a vengeance. The water had found the path of least resistance, and it was all over my space. It would have been slapstick comedy if I were not a part of it. I start to panic as I know I can't ask Husband for help. He is 30 feet away in his office - in the middle of being a guest presenter on someone else's podcast. CRAP - still 45 minutes to go on his engagement. Did I mention that I effed up?
I rack my brain thinking about where and how to turn off the water main. There's a white pipe cover at the edge of the yard - I grab my flashlight and run outdoors to check it out while the water continues showering the room. I remove the cover and see nothing but a fifteen foot pvc pipe going straight toward the center of the earth. I think about where else it possibly can be. I know where the irrigation shut off is, and that's not it. I'm freaking out.
In a panic I open up Facebook, because I'm out of ideas. I frantically throw an SOS out to my neighborhood's group hoping for someone who knows the first thing about water main shutoff valves. I know that's the answer, I just can't find it.
Less than a minute later I get a phone call. Ray calmly talks me through where to find the shutoff valve. As I'm kneeling on the cold, damp grass trying to get it to budge, a pickup truck pulls up to the curb next to me. Mike jumps out and adds his strength to get the valve to turn. It's frozen in place, not having been touched in over seven years. I jog back to the garage looking for a bigger wrench. In the meanwhile three other calls come in, while Sanjay and Seth show up on the scene. Finally, the water to the house is shut off. Using the kids' beach sand buckets, we carry and dump two plastic storage bins of water outside. I profusely thank the neighbors who came to my rescue, and shop vac the rest of the mess. Thankfully the plumber was scheduled for the next day, because the house was now completely without water.
In this moment, I am reminded of the power of neighbors coming together. It is just one of the many networks we can cultivate. In times of joy and crisis, people will show up without notice. I am reminded to BE that neighbor when I see others in need of a hug or a high five. In a skeptic's world, acts like this of kindness and generosity feed the soul in the most profound of ways. I am grateful beyond words.
Stephanie Brooke Lennon is the author of Family Bank Blueprint, GoldQuest, and What Would Water Do? Simple Strategies for Navigating Life's Obstacles. Her titles are available in Paperback and Kindle on Amazon.com. Follow Stephanie Brooke on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, YouTube, Twitter, Amazon, and at ​BrookeLennon.com.