Michelle McGuire’s new home sits high on a hill, with a beautiful view and the kind of peace that once must have felt impossible.
In the early morning hours of July 4, in Hunt, Texas, Michelle woke around 3:15 a.m. to the sound of water. At first, she thought she was dreaming. But when she got out of bed, water was already inside her home, rising to her knees. By the time she reached the living room, a large piece of furniture had shifted in front of the door, blocking her main option for escape. She climbed over it and made her way outside, only to find the floodwaters rising fast.
What began as waist-deep water quickly rose to her neck. Michelle fought to stay upright as the force of the current pushed her in different directions. She managed to reach higher ground near a bridge embankment, but even that was eventually overtaken. At one point, she watched her truck float past. Finally, she was swept toward a tree and decided it was the safest place to hold on. She remained there for hours as the floodwaters raged below.
Later, Michelle realized the water had carried her nearly 30 feet up into that tree before it began to recede. From there, she could hear neighbors calling out to ask if she was alive. They were stranded on their rooftop with their children and pets, unable to reach her. A first responder called out from a distance to check on her, then told her he needed to help others first and would come back. Michelle held on. The first responder soon returned and helped her climb down out of the tree.
Her home was completely washed away. In the end, she was left with only the clothes on her back and the cross necklace still hanging around her neck. She still does not know how that necklace remained with her through the violence of that night. One of the only personal items recovered was a photo of Mary, Mother of Jesus, still stuck to a piece of glass from a shattered frame that once sat beside her bed. A friend also found a bin of Michelle’s winter clothes, carefully washed everything, repacked it, and returned it to the place where her home once stood.
In the first few days after the flood, Michelle’s family did not know whether she had survived. Friends and members of her church searched for word of her safety until Sunday. Over time, many began referring to her simply as “the woman in the tree,” a name that has become part of her remarkable story of survival.
At her Welcome Home celebration, Michelle reflected on the many people who helped her take this step forward. Hunt United Methodist Church, Samaritan’s Purse, her case manager Margaret, Leslie Robertson with The Money Store, TSAHC, Hunt Preservation Society, Kerr Design Build owner – Katy Culver, and many others each played a role in her recovery. Through down payment assistance and first-time homebuyer support, including an additional $30,000 from TSAHC, Michelle was able to purchase the home she had moved into after the flood, a blessing that meant she did not have to move yet again. The home was previously owned by friends, who allowed her to live there while she was trying to decide next steps. She will forever be grateful for her friend’s generous support.
A retired coach, Michelle smiled as she shared memories from her years coaching girls volleyball in Texas, where she won a state championship, and boys volleyball in California, where she won another. Her strength, determination, and faith have carried her through more than most people can imagine.
Michelle said “I lost many things in the flood, but the one thing I never lost was my faith. My faith in God sustained me through all of it, from first leaving my house in the middle of the night, to hanging onto the tree, until today, in a new home. I know God will continue to be with me tomorrow, too.”
Today, as she settles into her new home, Michelle remains deeply grateful not only for the people she knows, but also for the many donors, volunteers, and strangers she will likely never meet who helped make her recovery possible. So moved by the care she received from Samaritan’s Purse, she hopes one day to serve in a disaster zone herself, offering the same kind of help that once met her in her darkest hour.
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