When Idalia Came to Town

Madison, Florida is a small dot on the map. Four stoplights. Around 20,000 in our whole county. We aren’t anything fancy but we are the perfect picture of small-town America.

We still cover our hearts and stand for the pledge and national anthem. Men take their hats off when inside and hold the doors for ladies. Kids say, mister, miss, ma’am, and sir. Churches are respected and God is still held in high esteem.

Some may call us hillbillies. Podunk. Or backwoods. Others might say we are behind the times or missing out on the rest of the world. But when Idalia came to town, the small-town, redneck brigade showed up and showed out.

 

Winds and Rain

We are over sixty miles away from the coast. Inland. Safe. Not in danger of a hurricane, right? That’s what we thought – until Idalia showed up. As we watched the storm intensify the night before, the track kept shifting until our little community was directly under the eyewall of the storm.

Wind blew like we’ve never experienced. Giant trees with huge root systems toppled over like match sticks. Carports, coverings, and awnings blew away. Every road in the county was blocked by debris. Power flickered and finally went out as power poles were snapped in half and lines were torn down my massive limbs and trees.

Rain flooded ponds, slews, and swamps. Many roads had running water flowing across like creeks. Sideways sheets of rain pelted houses, seeped under doors, and into any unsealed crevices. So much water stood in unusual places.

Working Together

In every part of our tiny agricultural community, men and women left the protection of their homes and climbed onto tractors and other machinery, even before the rain ceased. They began on their own streets clearing trees and debris and continued until dark overtook them. At daybreak, chainsaw, truck, and tractor engines echoed across the woods as every person used their available resources to attack the mess Idalia left behind.

Neighbors checked on neighbors whether they knew them or not. Needs were passed to those who had the ability to meet them, and strangers soon knew they mattered. People trapped in homes were released. Driveways blocked by trees were cleared. Senior citizens who couldn’t drive were checked on and served.

Churches opened their doors, partnering with outside agencies. They distributed food, water, diapers, and other household staples beginning the next day. Refrigerator trucks filled with pallets of ice were delivered as the whole county remained without power for nearly a week. Government groups, charities, and ministries showed up right on time with more resources than we could possibly comprehend. Work teams from out of town went door to door and began cleaning up the yards of strangers.

 

Protected

As we drove through our county after the storm, we noticed giant trees laid down next to houses. Huge limbs fell beside cars. Tin peeled back on barns but homes were protected. Considering the amount of damage, there were very few residences with trees all the way through them.

Trees that should have made direct hits, didn’t. It was strange how house roofs that should have been taken out were left with only small holes. Cars with dents and dings sat in yards mere inches away from crushing trees.

Now, I’m not saying there was no damage to homes, because there absolutely was damage. What I am saying is, it could have been so much worse. And based on the location and the size of the trees, it should have been.

But God spared us. He protected our little community from total devastation. We have a mess to clean up and some holes to patch, but the majority of our community is pushing through and continues to be blessed with the idea of simply being alive.

Blessed

Our power outage was expected to last two to three weeks. For some in the country, like us, a month didn’t seem too far-fetched. But God, in his tenderness, motivated over 800 crews of linemen from all over the United States, to come to Madison County. Within a week, most of our residents had power restored, and some even had internet.

Stories circulated of neighbors showing up in miraculous ways. Tears flowed as resources were placed into hands that needed them at just the right moment. Prayers abounded as folks, sensitive to the Spirit’s leading, grabbed strangers’ hands to lead them to the throne in prayer.

Our town came together. The Body of Christ rose up and offered their gifts in service. And all those hillbillies and rednecks became hometown heroes on tractors, wielding saws.

When Idalia came to town, we were just a dot on a map. But now, we are a grateful town filled with hope. Hope in each other. Hope in our newfound friends. And hope in our God whose hand covered us all.

 

Copyright Christy Bass Adams, September 2023

All Photos from Canva