Rau Wood

Rau Wood

For the past several years I have been a part of a weekend Men’s retreat held mostly at the Rau Wood Retreat Center on the banks of the South Harpeth River west of Nashville, near Franklin, Tennessee. On May 1st, Saturday about one o’clock, half way through our retreat, the lights went out at Rau Wood. This gave us time to pause and asses the situation, take note of the rising river, current Doppler radar, a massive line of rain storms coming at us.

Scott, our designated leader for the weekend, made the call. We would leave. I thought the decision premature. I was not the only one. But it was Scott’s call. There was no dissention. We had thirty-one staff, and ten, what we call disciples. We bill the weekend, more or less, as an initiation into Christian manhood. Since we started, over 160 men have gone through the weekend.

It was a chaotic departure in the downpour. Later that day, on the news, I would hear it called a once in 500 years rain. We sent the disciples on ahead to a grade school one of the staff leaders worked at in Franklin. We loaded up cars, suv’s and pick-ups, with as much of our gear as we could; we left five or six guys behind to finish packing up. I got in the back seat with Scott and Steve. The most direct route was a straight shot up highway 96. Scott and Steve were locals and, knowing the roads, chose a different route over higher ground. I sat in the back staring out the window at roadside ditches turned into rivers, occasionally crossing over the road. A half an hour after we left, those who remained behind, with water beginning to come into the kitchen of the main building were we all met, abandon what was left of our equipment and gear and drove out through knee deep rushing water while they still could. About a half hour later the South Harpeth River reached record flood stage, inundating the Rau Wood Retreat Center.

After about a three and a half hour interruption, with tornado sirens going off and rain pounding on the roof of the school, figuring we were in the safest place we could be, we went on, as best we could, with our retreat activities. They stopped for the night that Saturday around midnight. We sent our disciples to one of the local staff’s house near by. Closed roads were an issue. Then we searched all the cars for something very important we could not find. The search of cars and trucks and our trailer was fruitless. Most of us scattered to different local houses and a group of four, in the best suv for the job, went back to Rau Wood.

They could not make it all the way in as a huge tree had fallen across the long gravel drive. The main building, where the staff slept, was full of mud. Water had come up to the light switches, maybe five feet. Our sound system was trashed, as was a motor scooter. In the kitchen the refrigerators were on their sides and an island counter was shoved against a wall. The two-story, log bunkhouse was missing two outside walls and the upper story, where the disciples would have slept, was sagging down. The four who went back did not find what they went to look for. They only found devastation.

We met back at the school at 9:00 AM, Sunday morning. Considering what we’d lost, we thought the disciples would want to end the weekend. Unanimously, they chose to complete it. Some of us tried to go back to Rau Wood. We all failed to make it because of closed roads due to flooding and a mudslide on 96. The scope of the ongoing disaster was becoming apparent. A good section of Franklin was flooded, water rushed over the roads at every turn. It was still raining like mad. I 24 and I 40 were closed. There was a video of a building floating down one of the interstate pushing cars out of its way and braking up next to an inundated semi.

We finished our retreat, ending on time at one o’clock in the afternoon. It was a good weekend for the disciples. I was supposed to fly out at six-thirty that evening. Reports were that all the magor roads were closed and the authorities were telling people to stay off the streets. Flash floods were predicted in three states. Rivers and creeks were raging and rising over their banks at record levels everywhere.

Another staff guy from Kentucky was going to try and make it home in his pick-up. He had to go by the airport. Some flights were getting out. He offered me a lift. I took it. Things were still getting worse and if I declined the offer I didn’t know when I’d get out. We all said our good-bys, half of us not knowing if we could get home, some of the locals not knowing what they’d find when they got there.

Trying to make it to the airport, in retrospect, was a stupid thing to do. Route after route was blocked by high rushing water. We made contact with two staff guys who had made it out to I 65 by car and they told us how they went. We made it to the interstate airport. It was drizzling. Many flights were canceled. My flight took off about forty-five minutes late.

I’ve seen current pictures of Rau Wood. The only thing left of the bunkhouse, a rather substantial log building from the 20’s, was the foundation. I keep wondering what would have happened if the power had not gone out when it did. I imagine someone noticing the water creeping over the floor, the forty of us braving the strong current to take refuge in the second story of the bunkhouse, and the exterior below us giving way to the rushing water and our weight bringing the second story down. Though I did not see it, the image of that building collapsing, I keep seeing over and over. Images of Franklin flooded and Nashville flooding, water rushing over the roads, keep running through my head. I hope they stop soon.