“We Don’t Wait for Help—We Are the Help”: In Flood-Ravaged Texas Hill Country, Neighbors Become Lifelines
In the wake of a deadly flood, local residents—many of whom are immigrants—are stepping up to clear debris, comfort their neighbors, and rebuild their communities one act of kindness at a time.
HUNT, Texas — In the aftermath of the devastating July 4 floods that swallowed parts of Central Texas, leaving over 120 dead and thousands displaced, a quiet revolution is taking place—not led by government agencies or national nonprofits, but by the neighbors, friends, and even strangers who refuse to stand by while their communities suffer.
Every morning since the floodwaters receded, Clemente Sánchez wakes before sunrise. He meets his six-man crew in Ingram, just seven miles downstream from the hardest-hit zones. But this week, they’re not going to paid job sites. They're headed to Hunt, where homes lie broken, trees are strewn like matchsticks, and lives have been upended.
Armed with chainsaws, rakes, and a deep well of compassion, Sánchez and his team move from house to house, clearing debris, hauling ruined furniture, and bringing order to chaos—all without charging a dime.
“I know most of my clients can afford this kind of work,” Sánchez says, nodding to the well-off residents whose properties dot the banks of the Guadalupe River. “But right now, it’s not about money. It’s about being human. They need help.”
Sánchez, who immigrated from Mexico 25 years ago and built his tree-trimming company from the ground up, says his own American dream means nothing if he can’t show up when others are living through a nightmare.
A Community Awakens
The floodwaters surged unexpectedly, swelling the Guadalupe River by more than 30 feet and catching many off guard. Across the Hill Country—from Hunt to Ingram to Kerrville—the damage was swift and unforgiving. Roads were ripped apart. Homes were swamped. Power was knocked out for days. But amid the destruction, something extraordinary took root.
People stepped up.
Word spread fast—about homes that needed clearing, families who had nowhere to go, and elders who needed medicine. Volunteers are organizing in real-time on Facebook and WhatsApp. Churches have become command centers. Pickup trucks transformed into supply caravans.
At the heart of this movement is a simple truth: when disaster strikes in small-town Texas, you don’t wait for help. You become the help.
“I Had to Do Something”
Jesus Garcia was only in Ingram for a short visit. The 45-year-old had flown in from Guanajuato, Mexico, to see family. But when he heard that Sánchez was rallying volunteers to help with flood cleanup, he grabbed a rake and joined the effort.
“I had to do something,” Garcia says, as he clears leaves and debris from a stranger’s yard. “In Mexico, we’ve had earthquakes and hurricanes, and people came to help us. Now it’s my turn.”
Garcia is one of dozens of everyday heroes who have answered the call—many of them immigrants or first-generation Americans who know firsthand what it’s like to lose everything in a flash.
Every day, Garcia works alongside Sánchez’s team, loading drenched furniture into trucks, cutting fallen branches, and hauling mud-caked insulation out of homes. There’s no paycheck. Just purpose.
Before You Continue!
Every fallen tree cleared, every home rebuilt, every act of neighborly love deserves to be witnessed — and remembered. But these stories often go unheard. At The Women Post, we’re committed to amplifying the voices of those too often overlooked — immigrants, working-class families, and everyday heroes like Clemente Sánchez and Jesus Garcia, who show us what real community looks like in times of crisis.
If you believe these stories matter — and that truth, compassion, and justice deserve a platform — we invite you to share this story.
Your support helps us report from the ground, uplift the voices of survivors, and keep the focus where it belongs: on the people.
👉 Share the story — and stand with Texas flood victims and the communities rebuilding from the ground up.
Disaster Meets Dignity
In nearby Kerrville, Dianne McCracken and her husband Francis were jolted awake at 3 a.m. on the Fourth of July by a stranger banging on their RV door.
“You need to get out—the river’s here!” the man shouted before vanishing into the night.
The couple escaped to higher ground, but when they returned, their RV was in ruins. Their rental home hadn’t fared much better—walls soaked, insulation ruined, precious belongings destroyed. And like many others in the area, they had no flood insurance.
Before the flood, Dianne says, she would have been too proud to ask for help. But now? “I had no choice,” she admits.
On Thursday afternoon, six family members and friends showed up to help. Her son-in-law yanked soggy drywall from the studs. Others shoveled out layers of thick, smelly mud. Together, they bagged up the remnants of a life that had been built one memory at a time.
“We’ll get through this,” Dianne says, eyes shining with tears. “Because we’re not alone.”
The Relentless Helpers
Next door, 57-year-old Yvette Cantu had driven in from Fredericksburg to help her elderly mother, who was forced to flee when floodwaters approached her street. Her house survived, but the garage and storage closets were inundated. As Cantu lined up salvaged items—photos, coolers, keepsakes—on the lawn to dry, she couldn’t help but think of what could have been lost.
“She didn’t know if her house would still be here,” Cantu says. “But we showed up, and we’re going to clean up. That’s what family does.”
Even those with no direct ties to the area have felt compelled to act.
Steve Rodriguez, a 41-year-old from New Braunfels, had been watching the tragedy unfold on social media. On Friday, he jumped in his truck and drove nearly 100 miles west to Hunt. When he reached a checkpoint, he told the guard he was there to volunteer. No organization. No plan. Just a gut feeling that it was time to do something.
Rodriguez ended up at the home of Nancy Allery, who had been away when the flood engulfed her property. There, he joined Sánchez’s crew to move ruined furniture, clear mud, and shovel dirt out of the house. He used a leaf blower to push debris from the yard. Then he stayed to do more.
Behind the house, Sánchez’s 18-year-old son Adrian was hard at work too, pushing dirt back toward the river that had displaced it. Like his father, Adrian didn’t need to be asked.
“It’s what we do,” he says. “We help each other. It’s the right thing.”
Meals, Water, and Grace
Allery and other grateful homeowners provided what they could in return—cool bottles of water, plates of food, home-cooked burritos, and a steady supply of gratitude.
At one point, a woman brought out chips and vegetables from a local relief group. The men sat briefly in the shade, sharing a quiet meal before heading to the next house. The work never seems to end—but neither does their spirit.
Healing Beyond Cleanup
More than the tools or the trucks or even the sweat equity, what these volunteers offer is hope. A belief that communities can rebuild, not just through government grants or insurance checks, but through compassion and unity.
The Guadalupe River will recede. The mud will dry. New drywall will replace the old. But what people here will remember most isn’t the damage. It’s the kindness.
And perhaps that’s what will define this moment in history—not as a tragedy of nature, but as a triumph of neighborliness.
As Clemente Sánchez surveys another devastated property, chainsaw in hand and sweat soaking through his shirt, he smiles faintly.
“This is my home,” he says. “These are my people. When something like this happens, we show up. We don’t ask why. We just do what needs to be done.”
Before You Click Away!
Every fallen tree cleared, every home rebuilt, every act of neighborly love deserves to be witnessed — and remembered. But these stories often go unheard. At The Women Post, we’re committed to amplifying the voices of those too often overlooked — immigrants, working-class families, and everyday heroes like Clemente Sánchez and Jesus Garcia, who show us what real community looks like in times of crisis.
If you believe these stories matter — and that truth, compassion, and justice deserve a platform — we invite you to share this story.
Your support helps us report from the ground, uplift the voices of survivors, and keep the focus where it belongs: on the people.
👉 Share the story — and stand with Texas flood victims and the communities rebuilding from the ground up.
Yes! Thank you for posting this!
Thank goodness for them… those that stepped up to help are wonderful, a Godsend.