I was writing in my journal last Tuesday morning, March 24. I was noting how much more alive I feel when I’m living my faith. Having backed off on my service in the past year, I was feeling spiritually dry. Little did I know that within moments I would have the opportunity to test my observation. I received an email that my church was sending a team to Fargo to help sandbag in preparation for the projected record flooding.

I got jazzed as I considered my schedule for the next day and my workload. I postponed one appointment and made the call to commit to the trip. My observation was completely validated. The prospect of going to Fargo the following day excited me and helped me focus on my work like I haven’t in months. I was living life. I was hopeful. Optimistic. Alive. What a great feeling.

I wanted to experience the scene firsthand. How does the city/area prepare for the highest levels ever recorded on the Red River? How do they coordinate volunteers and other resources? What’s it like to heave sandbags into a make-shift levy? I was curious.

There were 20 of us who caravaned to Fargo. We reported to the Fargodome about noon, signed our waivers and boarded a school bus to be deployed to the “wall.” When we arrived at the upscale neighborhood where we were dropped, we discovered there were no sandbags to be found. It seems the volunteers on the lines were working faster than sandbags could be filled.

While we waited for sandbags, we happened upon lunch in one of the houses. I talked a bit with the women serving the luke warm hotdogs, beans and cider, and learned that the homeowners association in that neighborhood ponied up to feed all the volunteers helping to protect their neighborhood from the flood waters. There were probably 200 volunteers in that neighborhood while I was there. They were a godsend to the volunteers. They provided a shelter from the wind and blowing snow and kept a fire stoked in the driveway, in addition to tables of chips, sweets, sandwiches, sloppy joes and the like. I was impressed — and thankful.

Ultimately a dump truck unloaded hundreds of sandbags on the street. I quickly figured out what happened next when scores of volunteers began stacking sandbags onto pallets that would then be moved to the river’s edge by skid steer loaders. Within minutes, the entire load of sandbags was palletized and being moved. We followed the sandbags to know where to jump in the line.

There were plenty of volunteers in this neighborhood. Our team divided up to different points on the wall to help build the wall up two additional feet to 43 feet high (flood stage is 19 feet). We slung sandbags side-by-side with homeowners, college students, and other random volunteers like us. Our work was short lived, however, with sandbags and time running short. We needed to be on the road by 4:30 to get back to the cities by 10 p.m.

We returned to the Fargodome to change clothes and head out, when we received a call from the church. It turns out that one of the church member’s brother lived in Fargo and was desperate for volunteers to help sandbag. His house was in danger. The team took a vote and decided to try to help rather than stick to our original schedule.

We wound our way through Fargo, through detours and past National Guardsmen blocking access to restricted roads and those already underwater. Water was lapping up to the edge of the main road into the neighborhood. Already homes in the area were islands. It took my breath away and gave me a sense of hopelessness. It seemed they were fighting a losing battle. When we turned onto the road to the home, the water was over the road. Military trucks and semis were passing to get sandbags back to the home.

It was decision time for the team. Some team members were leery of traveling the submerged road and concerned that the fast rising waters would trap us in the neighborhood. Some were determined to help. We prayed for enlightenment and for fear to be set aside. Ultimately the decision was left to our team leader.

He had the misfortune of not being able to please everyone regardless of the decision he made. He had to set aside his opinions and consider the safety of the team. He chose to turn back.

I was one team member who wanted to proceed. Throw caution to the wind. But I was not in charge. It was not my decision to make. God used the experience to teach me a lesson in submission. I voiced my opinion and then respected the decision that was made. I didn’t criticize our team leader for his choice. This is a lesson that God has been trying to teach me for a while now. He puts people in authority over us that he wants us to obey and respect, wehter we agree with them or not. It requires humility. It requires a submissive spirit (which I often lack). I learned my lesson.

There are many questions from my one long day in Fargo:
- how does the city decide where to send volunteers?
- why does one neighborhood have an overflow of volunteers and another that is in a more desperate situation lack the help?
- who will help clean up after the flood waters subside?
- why do people build along the river?
- how long until this happens again?

The most important lessons I learned from my experience were two-fold:
1. I need to actively serve God to feel fully alive and embrace life.
2. I cannot control every situation and need to defer control to those people God has placed in authority over me.

My prayer is that my lesson in submission will translate into a greater ability to submit to God.