The e-mail was sent two nights ago after all were in bed asleep. Yesterday the Internet was down and a busy morning with end of year school stuff. By the time I got the e-mail, it was closer to noon of yesterday.
With all of the rain we've been getting and the snow pack that is still yet to melt, we are flooding all over the state of UT. As we have watched the river get higher and higher we've kept our fingers crossed that some how, a miracle would happen and it wouldn't swell it's banks.
The e-mail. A friend's husband is out of the country, she is leaving in two days, she's just been told by the city that the area where she keeps her horses (where The Native's take horse riding lessons) is going to be under water. Sand bags need to be filled. LOTS of sand bags need to be filled and put all around the hay and tack sheds. How in the world is she going to do this herself with three young children. Could any of us possibly come and help.
When you get an e-mail like this, you drop everything, you grab a task force (The Native's) and you run. It was Mr. B's last day of school. Early out. He and his friends were going to spend the day going to the movies and what not. I called and asked if Mr. B and his friends would be willing to come and help. Sure! No problem! Filling sand bags, tromping through knee deep horse manure was exactly how they wanted to spend their day instead of playing.
We arrived out at the pasture at 1:15 PM. Mr. T, Mr. C. Mr. B and his four muscly teenage friends. We worked for 45 minutes until Mr. B and his friends had to run to the movies. They'd already bought their tickets before I'd sent the cry for help. In that 45 minutes, they'd filled and stacked about 100 sand bags. One time around the sheds.
I had to run to the school to see Miss K's talent for the fourth grade talent show. I left Mr. T and Mr. C out at the pasture with Kristen and literally ran into the school all the while noticing that I had horse manure smeared on my hands and feet. Nice. I sat in the back of the room. The WAY back of the room.
Talent show over I grabbed Miss K and her brothers Mr. L and Mr. M and we headed back out to the pasture where we spent the next 4 or more hours sand bagging.
Mind you, Mr. T and Mr. C had been there for several hours already.
Here's the incredible thing. In raising these boys, I've worried that living in town, I wouldn't be able to teach them how to work. Really work. And not only to work hard but to appreciate and enjoy working hard. Yesterday, watching these boys with weariness etched all over their faces and bodies continue to laugh and joke the entire time, never complaining, I was proud. Extremely proud.
Mr. M who is twelve (and a small 12 at that) was shoveling bag after bag full of sand. His arms were hurting. I kept asking him if he wanted to switch. Hold the bag while I filled. Nope he said. He wasn't going to quit until the job was done.
Mr. C and Mr. T who hauled bag after bag..... I kept wondering how much longer they could go on. On they went. These bags are 40-50 pounds of wet sand.
Four hundred and fifty bags of sand. That is how many bags we filled and laid down. Geneva and her three small children were right in there. Think about it. Four hundred and fifty sand bags filled and stacked and here are the ages: 4,6,7,9,9,10,10,12,14,14,15 The majority of the sand bagging was done by these kids. Mr. B who is 17 and his friends did about 100-150. Geneva, Kristen, and I were the adults with The SM coming in to save us the last hour. I say save us, no one stopped though. Everyone worked until the last bag was filled and stacked.
Now THAT is worth something to brag about. In my not so humble opinion.
Oh! And photos..... yeah..... well....... I didn't take any because I was too busy standing in my flip flops with horse manure up to my ankles making the teenage boys who came with Mr. B disgusted. All I gotta say is, my feet and flip flops will clean easier and faster then their tennis shoes, socks, and jeans.