I always imagined that if I were to be evacuated due to a natural disaster, it would be in an epic and terrifying fashion. Preferably in high winds with a storm brewing in the distance (no rain though- I don't like to be wet). Lightning flashes, and the children start crying. I push them aside along with any nurturing instincts I may have; as I recall, it's "women and children first" not "children and women". Then I put on a fashionable yellow poncho and jump into the rescue chopper right before my home explodes.
But that isn't at all what happened.
Our landlady Marian emerged from the sunshine and knocked on our door while saying in a sing-song voice, "Hellooooo?"
"Come on in," we answered, staying firmly seated on our couch and breathing in black mold spores.
"I have bad news," she began sheepishly. "We need to gut the apartment, so we need you out for about three weeks to a month while that happens."
This was probably the most chill way possible to be evacuated, and I was not amused. But in fact, I was more peeved because Marian had interrupted my birthday card coloring time.
We slowly absorbed this, along with the mold spores of course, and began to devise a plan. Adrienne decided to freak herself out about the effects of black mold ("Did you know that once you inhale mold it just keeps growing in your lungs and you don't realize you're sick until it's too late to treat it and then you DIE!?") before doing something useful. In the meantime, I waited for her to do something useful.
She texted all of her comrades pleading for open floor space, because we were now officially homeless, you see.
After securing a place for the weekend, we coped in the best way possible: baking and puns.
And, Adrienne got a great Halloween costume idea out of this ordeal. She's going to be the Colorado flood, which is essentially letting yourself into people's houses and laying on their floors uninvited while drooling on all of their stuff.
But in all seriousness, the flood for us has been a mild nuisance at worst. Very little of our belongings were damaged (aside from our nonexistent TV that was completely totaled), we have a plethora of generous friends who live in dry, non-molding homes, and our landlady is being a literal boss getting our apartment taken care of. Plus, there's nothing like a good old-fashioned natural disaster to remind you that God is good. That may seem counterintuitive, but it's nice to know that whatever happens, God is here and there's no disaster that could make Him throw up His hands and say, "Well shoot, you all are really in a pice because I do not know how to take care of that." Even if it flooded for the rest of my life, sixty years is a blip taken in the perspective of eternity.
And there are no oceans in heaven. So there's that (Rev 21:1, yes please).