You Make Your Plans…

For the past month, getting back to Daylily Connection and writing another blog post has been sitting quietly in the back of my mind.

I kept thinking, I really need to get back out there.

But, as it turns out, life doesn't always care about the list in your head.

Colt and I—and honestly, all of society, it seems—just keep moving from one thing to the next.

Right after daylily season ended, we geared up to focus on preparing for the Indiana State Fair. Lily got to take her Maine-Anjou heifer, Matilda, and we were simultaneously preparing our nervous freshman for the beginning of his high school journey.

I kept telling myself, On a free day, I'll get back out to the daylilies.

I'd start splitting and separating all those big clumps that need a little more space to bloom. I'd get some much-needed TLC done. I'd get caught up.

Except those "free" days never seemed to coincide with the good-weather days.

And there is a particular kind of nagging shame that creeps into the back of your mind when there is so much to do on a farm, but life, weather, and whatever else seem determined to get in the way.

I think Angus was the most annoyed by all of this.

Any time I headed toward the barn, he assumed I was headed to the daylilies. And let me tell you, a disappointed Golden Retriever face is heartbreaking.

Eventually, we made it to State Fair.

Lily wasn't thrilled with her showmanship, but she felt pretty satisfied with Matilda, who placed third out of nine in her class.

Definitely competitive.

And while we were away at the fair, Hoyt started high school.

Honestly, this might have been better for him than if we had been home. Grandpa got to step in, and let's just say there was an open bar of television and sweets.

It all worked out.

Surely, I thought, once the State Fair was over, life would return to a normal schedule.

Right?

I was itching to get back out to the daylilies. I wanted to finally get my hands in the dirt and start giving everything the attention it needed.

Then Thomas Rhett's line, "you make your plans and you hear God laughing," started playing on repeat in my life.

Because…of course.

As many of you know and experienced firsthand, the once-in-a-century flood hit soon after.

And boy, did it hit.

About three-quarters of the nearly two acres where our daylilies grow was underwater.

By the grace of God, we haven't lost any tags that I know of yet. And, just like the humans around here, the daylilies look like they're going to bounce back just fine.

They're tougher than they look.

Our barn, sheds, garage, fields, yards, and pastures all took on a good amount of water. We had damage. We may lose some crops. And there are probably things we'll discover later that were affected in ways we can't see yet.

But we know we were lucky.

Very lucky.

Colt and his dad acted quickly to save some of the bigger things, and since then, we've had plenty of drying out, cleaning out, hauling out, and throwing out.

Then there was the matter of getting Hoyt home from school.

As the rain continued and the roads started flooding, we weren't sure the bus would be able to get through. Eventually, Colt had to drive the backhoe through a pretty rough stream that the bus couldn't cross to get Hoyt home.

A little creativity.

A little farm equipment.

And everyone made it home safely.

Meanwhile, Angus was having the time of his life running through the giant pond that had formed in our backyard.

He thought this was an absolutely fantastic development.

His skin did not agree.

A few nasty hot spots on his head and neck later, and Angus learned that not every backyard pond is a luxury amenity.

But honestly?

All of that is small.

Because we didn't get hit like so many of our neighbors.

From Cambridge City to Connersville, Richmond and everywhere in between, families lost homes, businesses, belongings, livestock, crops, and pieces of their lives.

We watched the water rise, and then we watched the aftermath.

If you weren't directly affected, it can be difficult to understand just how devastating it was until you drive east on Highway 40 and see the remnants of people's lives sitting along the road.

Furniture.

Appliances.

Possessions.

Years of memories.

Everything that used to make a house a home.

It's a terrifying visual.

And it's also a reminder:

It could have been any one of us.

We got lucky.

And that realization has made getting back to writing feel a little heavy.

Because what do you write about when people in your own community are trying to figure out where to sleep, how to rebuild, and how to start over?

It feels strange to talk about splitting daylilies when someone else is trying to put their entire life back together.

But I've also realized that ignoring what happened doesn't help anyone.

And neither does carrying the heaviness around without doing anything with it.

So instead, I'm trying to let that heaviness turn into something useful.

Some of our beloved Daylily Connection customers have been affected directly.

We are especially keeping Jen Church Brannon and her uncle and aunt, Geoff and Mendy Church of Connersville, in our prayers. They lost everything, including the home they worked out of.

If you are able, please consider helping families like theirs.

Geoff and Mendy's GoFundMe: https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-geoff-and-mendy-rebuild

There are also broader efforts helping Hoosiers recover:

Indianapolis Flood Relief Fund: https://indianapolisfoundation.org/flood/https://indianapolisfoundation.org/flood/

Indiana American Legion Foundation Disaster Relief Fund: https://www.indianalegion.org/post/indiana-american-legion-foundation-disaster-relief-fund-offers-help-after-devastating-flooding

And the State of Indiana has resources available for farmers and other residents affected by the flooding:

Hoosier Flood Relief Resources:https://www.in.gov/gov/hoosier-flood-relief-resources/

For many farmers, flood insurance isn't even an option because their farms aren't located in traditional flood plains.

So when something like this happens, the scale of the loss can be unimaginable.

We don't know yet what all of the long-term effects will be here on our farm.

But we do know this:

We were fortunate.

And when you realize you've been fortunate, maybe the best thing you can do is look around and ask, What can I do with what I have?

Maybe it's donating money.

Maybe it's donating supplies.

Maybe it's helping clean out a barn.

Maybe it's checking on a neighbor.

Maybe it's sharing someone's fundraiser.

Maybe it's simply praying for a family who has no idea what tomorrow is going to look like.

None of us can do everything.

That part has been weighing on me, too.

There is always that feeling that whatever you're doing isn't enough when someone else needs so much.

But maybe enough isn't one enormous act.

Maybe it's a thousand little ones.

Someone hauling debris.

A farmer opening up pasture.

A friend dropping off dinner.

A person giving $25.

Someone sharing a GoFundMe.

Another person praying.

And another.

And another.

Until all those little things become something bigger than any one of us could have done alone.

That's what I'm choosing to focus on.

The daylilies will still be here.

There will be clumps to split.

There will be weeds to battle.

There will be blogs to write.

And, eventually, there will be another season of flowers.

For now, I'm just grateful that our little farm—and the people I love—are still standing.

And I'm grateful for a community that knows how to show up when things don't go according to plan.

Because apparently, that's the lesson I've been learning all summer:

You make your plans.

You work hard.

You do your best.

And sometimes you'll hear God laughing when he sends something new your way.

So you clean up what you can, help where you can, love your people a little harder…

…and then you keep growing.