On the night of July 4, 2025, the storm was so loud that Joan Connor and David could not sleep. In the darkness of the early morning hours, David—99 years old and a proud World War II veteran—began to get out of bed. When his feet touched the floor, he felt water already ankle-deep inside their home.
He immediately woke Joan. “We’ve got to get out of here. It’s flooding.”
At first, Joan thought the water might simply need to be mopped up. She had no idea how quickly the danger was rising. As she gathered a few things and hurried to get dressed, she stepped into the main part of the house and saw their small dog perched on top of a table floating in the middle of the living room.
Within moments, the reality became clear. Water was rushing into the house. Their back glass sliding doors had been blown inward by the force of the flood.
Joan and David fought their way outside as the water rose to their waists. Once on the front porch, they clung to the posts of their pergola—the only refuge they could find. Joan had managed to grab a battery-powered flashlight in the chaos, and its beam gave them just enough light to understand what was happening and where to hold on.
Soon, the water climbed well above their heads. Suspended in the floodwaters, they held tightly to the pergola posts for hours, waiting and praying as the current raged around them.
At last, the water began to recede.
As daylight came, a neighbor arrived to check on them and realized David had escaped the house without any clothes in the rush to survive. The neighbor quickly took down an American flag that had somehow remained in place and wrapped David in it—a fitting tribute for a man who had already weathered one generation’s greatest trials.
Their survival was only the beginning of the long road home.
Inside, much was lost. Joan’s piano had been destroyed, shoved against the dining room wall by the force of the water and hauled away in the days after the flood. She also mourned the loss of treasured sheet music given to her by a longtime teacher, pages filled with handwritten notes and memories gathered over the years.
But even in that grief, Joan kept perspective.
“They’re just things,” she said. “They don’t matter like people matter.”
Today, Joan and David are back home in Bumble Bee Hills, surrounded by reminders not only of what was lost, but of what was restored. A piano from Joan’s daughter now sits beautifully in their remodeled home, ready to make music again. Joan was also delighted to be wearing a shirt she received from the downtown Kerrville pop-up closet, CJ Copeland’s—another small but meaningful sign of the care that surrounded them in recovery.
Their home now carries fresh touches of beauty and comfort. Joan especially treasures the stunning mantel handcrafted and installed by Josh Jones, a centerpiece above the fireplace that she absolutely adores.
Their recovery was made possible through the support of many caring hands, including Josh Jones, the Hunt Preservation Society, Lisa Field, ARC, the Community Foundation of the Texas Hill Country, and the loving support of Hunt Methodist Church and Pastor Bill Harris, who helped walk alongside them through this season of recovery.
Some stopped by simply to hand them envelopes with $100 or $1,000—acts of kindness offered quietly, person to person, heart to heart.
They have never chosen bitterness. They have never asked why. Instead, they have chosen gratitude, faith, and service.Joan even revealed that she has already begun giving back by volunteering at the Christian Women’s Job Corps nonprofit organization. She is thoroughly enjoying her meaningful work there.
“We’ve been given a miracle—David and I are still here,” Joan said. “So many people helped us get back into our home, and we just want to make sure we pay it forward.”
Their story is one of courage, resilience, and unwavering faith—a reminder that even after the deepest waters, hope still finds a way home.
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