There are many things in life that will earn your ugly cry - some deservingly and some undeservingly, nevertheless, it will be earned. Yes, ugly cries have to be earned. An ugly cry is not something you just give away like a hug; plus that would probably be weird if you walked up to someone and started to ugly cry. (Awkward, right?) But on a serious note, there have been many things that have earned my ugly cry over this last year and season, but the most recent is the devastation from the Carr fire in Redding (and the surrounding towns/areas) - the place I’ve come to know as my city and home over the last two years.
Monday a week ago, a friend and I were heading to the lake like any other summer day for kayaking adventures that we had actually been postponing for about three weeks. We made our way to Whiskeytown Lake where locals and tourists alike spend long summer days on the water and the evenings sitting around campfires. We pulled into Oak Bottom boat marina (one of my usual spots) to unload our kayaks and then paddled off for a day of adventures. We talked, laughed, dreamed, and explored for hours. As we realized that being in the sun for three hours without sunscreen was probably going to have a not so pleasant effect on our skin, we started to head back to the marina.
As we’re getting close, a fellow kayaker points out a stack of white smoke that’s beginning to rise into the air behind us just a short distance away. We pause for a minute on the water, say a prayer for the area and the firefighters that have begun to head that way, and continue paddling back. Two planes were already circling the area, then one…two…three fire rescue trucks go by in the distance. We never would have thought in that moment that just three days later chaos and panic would ensue, black smoke clouds would cover the skies with an orange glowing backlight, mandatory evacuations would have people grabbing priceless belongings they could fit in their vehicles to find safer grounds, and the usually smooth-flowing freeway would be covered in a sea of red brake lights as one-third of our city evacuated not knowing if their homes would still be standing when they returned.
For some in our city, their return wasn’t as bad as the story they had created in their heads; for others, it was much worse. Many are able to continue with life as “normal” (as possible) while others have been completely displaced returning to the devastation of their homes and neighborhoods being completely destroyed, and for some even worse - the loss of a family member.
With my personal soundtrack of sad music playing (Yes, I am dramatic.), I drove around the city I’ve discovered, adventured, known and loved trying to get a glimpse of the places I frequent knowing they’re not the same places they were before, and I experienced both grief and gratitude - grief at the bare hills with vague, charred, stick-figure silhouettes that use to be hills covered with full trees, shrubs and wildlife; grief at the neighborhoods I use to drive through to get to the river trail now leveled to the ground; grief at the loss that our town is experiencing; grief for those that have lost the most precious gifts of all: lives of loved ones; then gratitude kicks in for the firefighters and service workers (both locally, state and nation-wide) that have been putting their lives at risk and working tirelessly through days and nights to protect our city; gratitude for the thousands of people that have been praying all over the world for us; gratitude for the way our community has and is continuing to come together to love, support and take care of it’s own, because even if one didn’t personally suffer loss, the pain and loss of a community is always experienced as a whole.
Needless to say, THIS has earned my ugly cry and much deservingly so. The beauty of a community coming together in the midst of destruction, the beauty of people all over the world taking time to pray, post, volunteer, and donate, the beauty of humanity at it’s finest in a time of loss and need...THIS is what deserved my ugly cry (probably not helped by the sad soundtrack) as I drove around this place I’ve known and loved for the last two years.
Redding, you are beautiful; you are full of amazing people; you will be stronger on the other side; you are loved; and YOU have earned my ugly cry.
Thank you to everyone who is investing in our community in whatever capacity that may be. If you’re wondering if what you’re doing matters, the answer is yes, no matter how small or large your investment may seem. THANK YOU!
For anyone interested in donating to our city and the Carr fire victims, here are just a few sites through which you can donate:
Here are a few of my fave pics floating around social media: #carrfire
This is the iconic Sundial Bridge that you cannot miss if you drive through our town. Literally anyone will know it if they have come to Redding for any occasion or amount of time. This lovely thing sits in Turtle Bay beside the Civic Center bridging either side of the Sacramento River and is outlined by river trails. While the background may be in flames in the top portion of this photo, I know it will be back to it's beautiful self in the future.
Signs like this one to the right outline our entire town. You can see them in neighborhoods, on random street corners around town, and even lining the overpasses driving down I-5. THIS fills my heart seeing the community share it's gratitude, love and support. While this may seem like a small thing, to me, it's humanity coming together to share in grief and gratitude.
Ok, this one below of the firefighters taking a nap gets me EVERY time. These are our people. These are those risking their lives. These are the ones working through exhaustion to save our area. These are the ones taking brief naps on the ground away from their families to build up some semblance of energy to keep going indefinitely. Thank you!
This is the iconic Sundial Bridge that you cannot miss if you drive through our town. Literally anyone will know it if they have come to Redding for any occasion or amount of time. This lovely thing sits in Turtle Bay beside the Civic Center bridging either side of the Sacramento River and is outlined by river trails. While the background may be in flames in the top portion of this photo, I know it will be back to it's beautiful self in the future.
Signs like this one to the right outline our entire town. You can see them in neighborhoods, on random street corners around town, and even lining the overpasses driving down I-5. THIS fills my heart seeing the community share it's gratitude, love and support. While this may seem like a small thing, to me, it's humanity coming together to share in grief and gratitude. Ok, this one below of the firefighters taking a nap gets me EVERY time. These are our people. These are those risking their lives. These are the ones working through exhaustion to save our area. These are the ones taking brief naps on the ground away from their families to build up some semblance of energy to keep going indefinitely. Thank you!
Hope and promise - this time will not last forever. Rebuilding has begun and while things may look bad, unity, community and hope is rising. I cannot wait to see this city and county on the other side!
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