The Floods of Summer 2026: Grief Piled on Grief, Hope Still Standing

Rev. Bobby Musengwa

Transitional General Presbyter

Three hundred and seventy days. 

That is how much time passed between the two floods. 

Two "1,000-year" rain events. In the same Hill Country. Fourteen months apart. This time Uvalde and several other communities were hit hard as well. 

If that number stops you in your tracks, good. It should. Because it means what happened to us this July was not a fluke. It was a second wave, hitting homes and hearts that had barely started to heal.

Two Floods, One Grief That Keeps Growing 

Last year, the flood touched almost everyone in our presbytery. You knew someone who died. Or you knew someone who knew someone. The loss of life was so great that grief became something we all carried together. 

This year, over 500 households have been affected by the July 2026 flood. Some of these families are brand new to this pain. Others are families who were just getting their homes rebuilt from last year, only to watch the water come back in. 

Think about that for a moment. 

Imagine finally repainting the walls. Replacing the drywall. Getting the kids back in their own bedrooms. And then the rain comes again. 

That is not just property damage. That is trauma layered on top of trauma. Old wounds that were starting to close, torn back open. 

Our community was standing at the edge of a pause. A moment to look back and say, "Look how far we've come." Instead, the flood came first. 

What Scripture and Scholars Tell Us About This Kind of Grief 

The theologian Walter Brueggemann wrote that the church's job is: "To tell the truth in a society that lives in illusion, grieve in a society that practices denial, and express hope in a society that lives in despair." 

That is our calling right now. Not to rush past the grief. Not to slap a quick "everything happens for a reason" on top of it. To tell the truth: this is hard, and it is fair to be exhausted.

New Testament scholar Esau McCaulley, drawing on the Black church tradition of lament, reminds us that lament is not a lack of faith. It is a form of faith. Crying out to God, saying "how long, O Lord," is exactly what the psalms teach us to do. Lament is how hope stays honest. 

Our own Brief Statement of Faith, found in the PC(USA) Book of Confessions, says the Spirit gives us "courage to pray without ceasing, to witness among all peoples to Christ as Lord and Savior, to unmask idolatries in Church and culture, to hear the voices of peoples long silenced, and to work with others for justice, freedom, and peace." 

That includes standing with our neighbors who are drowning in grief right now, literally and otherwise. 

We are allowed to grieve. And we are still called to hope. 

Presbyterian Disaster Assistance Is Walking With Us

Here is some good news in the middle of the hard news. 

Presbyterian Disaster Assistance (PDA) has been our partner since the very first flood. They know that a disaster is not just a broken house. It is a broken sense of safety. 

That is why PDA offers workshops on emotional and spiritual resiliency care, training for pastors, elders, and caregivers on how to walk alongside people who are traumatized. 

Mission Presbytery has already hosted two of these workshops. A third workshop is coming in October, at our Presbytery meeting. 

This is your invitation: 

Pray for these workshops.

Register for the one in October. 

Encourage your session and your congregation's leaders to attend. 

You cannot pour from an empty cup. These workshops fill the cup so you can keep showing up for your people. 

The Matthew 25 Invitation: Get Your Hands Dirty 

Our PCUSA's Matthew 25 invitation calls congregations to active engagement in the world, building congregational vitality, dismantling structural poverty, and confronting systemic racism. 

Disaster response sits right at the heart of that call. Jesus said, "I was a stranger and you welcomed me." Right now, our neighbors are strangers to their own front doors. This is our chance to welcome them home. 

Volunteers are needed now. 

Recovery work is not glamorous. It is mud, mold, and hauling debris. It is also holy work. Think of it like a church workday, but the fellowship hall is someone's flooded living room. 

Contact Mo-Ranch to sign up. They are coordinating volunteers and will match your gifts, your time, your talent, and yes, your treasure, with the families who need it most. 

How to Give 

If you cannot go in person, you can still show up. 

Send a check to Mission Presbytery. 

Write "Disaster Assistance" in the memo line. 

That's it. Every dollar moves toward the families still standing in the wreckage. 

Where We Go From Here

Grief piled on grief is real. Fatigue is real. But so is the promise that we do not walk through flood waters alone. 

Brueggemann was right. Our job is to tell the truth about the pain, grieve without denial, and still, somehow, speak hope out loud. 

So do one thing this week. 

Call Mo-Ranch. Register for October. Write the check. Say a prayer for the family down the road whose walls are wet again. 

The waters rose twice. Let our response rise higher than either flood.

Let us pray. 

Lord, the river rose and the floods came once again, and our hearts are heavy. 

We carry the wounds and scars of last July with us still. That grief never fully left. Now this new wound sits right on top of it. 

Be with every family who is grieving today. 

Be with every child who was scared during the storms. 

Be with every emergency worker who is still out there helping. We will not pretend this is easy or that we understand it. 

We just ask you to hold this valley now, the way you have held it before. Give us strength for what comes next. 

Give us love enough to show up for our neighbors, no matter how hard the days ahead turn out to be. 

We pray in the name of Jesus Christ, our Risen Lord.

Amen. 

Grace and peace, 

Rev. Bobby Musengwa

Transitional General Presbyter Mission Presbytery