It may be true that snowstorms suck and this past February was the coldest Michigan has seen in over 100 years… but I think a February of solid rain in tropical countries is potentially worse. Here’s why:
We should have all died as we sloshed around, knee-deep, in Darrin and Julie’s sewage.
We were living in Morocco – a country that many would describe as “backwards.” Admittedly, it is confusing why the country still tolerates garbage everywhere – littering the streets, fields and beaches; or why buildings are left half-done for decades – sometimes with occupants; or why there are essentially no rules for driving: lane lines are entirely irrelevant and disregarded, traffic lights are merely suggestions, and many drivers don’t own a drivers license. Perhaps that does describe a “backwards” country. But to me, it was all beautiful. Morocco was our home and because the people were thoroughly loving and kind, it was actually quite easy to look right past the confusing, backward parts.
Except one.
There was a serious lapse in logic when Moroccan builders built the low-cost cement row homes of which we rented. I’m no builder – the farthest thing from it, actually. But even I wonder what the heck they were thinking when they would first pour a HUGE cement sewage holding tank, and then construct the home directly over it.
There are many reasons this seems stupid to me. The biggest reason is the cockroach population that proliferated so rapidly in that sewage tank that within weeks of a new home construction, they would find their way up the drainage systems and into our HOMES to find more food and water. Cockroaches were a part of our everyday life in Morocco. I hate cockroaches – almost as much as the flying monkeys of OZ. Now, I know God is the Maker of all, but I still think cockroaches must somehow be the spawn of satan. But that’s another story.
Probably the second stupidest reason that one should not build their home directly over their sewage tank, is that in torrential rains (which occur November through March in non-drought years in Morocco) the tank overflows and can potentially back up into your home. Lovely, huh?
In an act of love and selfishness, when our friends Darrin and Julie decided to join us and work in Morocco, we found a house for them just down the street from ours. We were thrilled to have them be our neighbors. We were so excited to get to “do life” together in our little Muslim surfing village on the outskirts of Casablanca.
One thing we never anticipated was that to “do life” together would mean we’d be wading knee-deep through their sewage.
The second year in their home, Darrin and Julie (and kids Sawyer and McKenna) woke up one day to water swirling around their ankles. It was rainy season, and it was a wicked one, and the rains had not let up for days. The Jones’ septic tank beneath their home couldn’t handle the water. It bubbled into their home from every shower drain, toilet, and even cracks in the concrete. By the time we heard of their disaster in the late morning, the water had risen knee-high. A small army of loving, self-less people raced to their aid and set up a rescue mission. We created a bucket brigade passing buckets of sewage water up a set of stairs and out the door to the street. More people were dumping buckets of sewage into the backyard – which itself was flooded, but we had so few options. Glory be, but someone found a small electric water pump – probably the ONLY water pump in this nation that seems to just accept flooding – and we placed it precariously on a chair in the middle of the flooded dining room. Julie sat on a chair next to it, creating her own little island in a swirling brown sea – and with her feet in the air, she filled the water receptacle with sewage water – bucket after bucket after bucket – praying the little pump would keep up with the rising waters. The rest of us prayed it wouldn’t fall off the chair.
There were people in nearly every room of their home, helping in every way. In addition to the bucket brigade, there were people in the back yard attempting to unclog a sewage drain hoping we could start sending water out that way. There were people in the garage who brought food in for all the workers. There were people standing in the street, in the rain, just trying to figure out how to help.
And every person that entered their home that day should have died.
Every person who came to help entered Darrin and Julie’s home on the main level, and then descended their stairs to the lower level where the kitchen, living area and two bedrooms were located. As we saw the rising sewage water, we would toss off our shoes, rip off our socks and roll up our pant legs. We’d grab a bucket and walk right into the sewage and get busy. I don’t remember anyone mentioning the risk of electrocution. I do remember watching people race to unplug certain things like the TV, computers, and lamps and thinking “I’m pretty sure standing knee deep in water and pulling on electrical cords is something Bill Nye the Science Guy said to never do.” I do remember somebody mentioning that the water level had risen as high as the wall outlets. Outlets which carry 220volts, not the 120v we use in the USA. Outlets which were wired by electricians who are not required to be licensed in this country. Outlets which have delivered enough voltage into a full-grown man to launch him right off his feet (that would be Darrin as well, but, again…. another story).
Looking back, I do not know how, for the love of God, no one was electrocuted that day. We were standing in water that was soaking in electricity. And even more unbelievable – no one got sick. Not a single case of gastroenteritis, or salmonellosis, or shigellosis, or hepatitis, or giardiasis. Not even a rash or a fever or a fungus. Nothing.
And this, I believe, is the reason: There are angels in the sewers.
I believe we are entertaining angels unaware – everywhere and all the time. But what I have discovered to be true so often in my own life is that in the darkest, dankest, most stinky, ugly and disgusting moments – the angels are really felt. They are known. We feel protected and safe. And we feel kept.
Sometimes you have to roll up your pants and just step into the sewage of life. You have to risk electrocution and hepatitis. You have to be brave and just do it because it is the right thing to do. And so GO DO IT, my friends. Be brave and GO DO IT because angels will keep you. You will be kept.
Sometimes you don’t ask for it. You don’t even have time to rip off your socks and shoes or roll up your pants – you simply wake up one day and find yourself in the middle of swirling sewage.
This – this swirling sewage, is what my life feels like currently. I did not ask for this. I did not willingly choose to engage in this battle with crap. But still, I am noticing the angels. I am feeling held. I am feeling kept.
May you truly know, brothers and sisters, that there are angels among us.
ESPECIALLY in the sewage.
I do remember thinking we were all going to get sick, but there was no alternative to seeing it through and getting that gross water out of their house. Days of stepping over everyone’s hoses pumping sewer water onto the streets with the accompanying smell seemed equally ludicrous. But you’re right, God was right in the midst of that little army of bailers and granted protection while proving how community works in the strangest of circumstances. May He flood you with a community of “bailers” when you feel like you are drowning! You and your family are such an inspiration of choosing to trust God in the tough stuff. Be assured of my prayers. Every day I stand amazed at God’s hand in my life and a direction I hadn’t anticipated.
Ahhhh, Shirley! YOU are the inspiration!!!! One thing I remember so vividly about that “flood day” was you showing up with a huge pot of food and setting up a “kitchen” in the Jones’ garage. That was (and is) you – always available, always serving, always loving. What a privilege to know you. It is a wonderful life we get to live, huh? Even when the direction is not what we anticipated – we still can see God in the middle of it all, we can still say God is good, and we can still live a life of gratitude and thank Him for every breath. Love you, my friend!
Beautiful writing Cindy-that conference must’ve helped a lot! Just kidding of course, you have always written beautifully as long as I’ve know you. Beautiful heart=beautiful writing….
Thank-you, Leisa! But you’re much too kind… I feel like my heart is an absolute wreck and most days I end up dragging it out of the mud and trying to redeem all my mistakes. You, my friend, are a true beautiful heart. Thank-you for your Christ-like example in my life. Always.
Cindy, you always give me so much to think about! Thanks for using your gift of writing and sharing your life to bless others! You are an inspiration to me…..thank you and God bless.
Thanks for the love, Jodi. For the record – YOU inspire me!
Cindy – I remember that day well. We were not able to help – we had our own flooding that day – but a Moroccan man we had met once came by and helped us – brought a snake to unclog our drain. We then sent him to the Jones’ once our was somewhat under control. I love the way the Moroccan’s rallied to help complete strangers in a time of need. Miss being there in so many ways. Blessings to you friend.
Oh, I miss it so much too, Leslie! I don’t think there’s a single day that goes by where I don’t reflect on Morocco in some way. It shaped us all so profoundly, didn’t it? And yes, the extravagant generosity and self-less, giving nature of the Moroccan people is the thing that struck me the most. I long to be more like that. Miss you, Leslie!
Miss you too Cindy.