Emotional and spiritual care – how does this work in disasters?

Linda, Emotional and Spiritual Care Specialist, helps out with the emergency distribution of toys and household materials after devastating floods in Texas last (northern) summer.

LINDA DOWELL is an Emotional and Spiritual Care Specialist with The Salvation Army in the USA. In July, she was deployed to Kerr County, Texas, following the devastating flooding that killed 135 people. In today’s Global Focus column, she shares her recollections of her deployment.

---

On Friday 4 July 2025, as our nation celebrated its birthday, an unthinkable, disastrous event was looming in my home state of Texas.

Heavy rains produced dangerous floodwaters which rose rapidly. Tragic stories began to unfold as the media and the nation watched in disbelief. In just 45 minutes, the Guadalupe River rose by more than eight metres, and spilled over its banks. The people along the riverbanks had little or no warning of the deadly flow of water raging downstream.

Quick deployment

As a disaster volunteer with The Salvation Army, I stay close to the phone when tragic events unfold. And on Monday morning around 6am, I received a call that an emotional spiritual care team was being deployed to Kerrville. By Tuesday afternoon our team was on the ground.

My assignment the first few days was to join a Salvation Army team already serving at Walmart. While water, cleaning supplies and snacks were distributed by canteen crews, I had the opportunity to speak with survivors.

A ministry of presence is essential as an emotional spiritual care worker. Providing a safe place for people to share their stories and release their fears and grief as we listen is an integral part of our ministry.

During those first few days, I spent time with survivors, some of whom had been rescued out of the flood waters, with people who had lost a friend or a loved one, and with numerous people just grieving for their community.

Roaming team

As the recovery efforts continued, I was reassigned to a roaming team in one of our rapid response vehicles to look for people in neighbourhoods that might need to be served.

As we followed the road along the river’s edge, teams of first responders, clean-up crews and heavy machine operators were hard at work cleaning up debris and uprooted trees. Some teams were still looking for unaccounted people. We found property owners trying to muck out what little was left of their structures. We spent time offering hydration, listening to stories and praying with everyone who was willing.

Towards the end of the day, our team had made our way downriver near Camp Mystic. I got out of the vehicle and started walking towards the river. I didn’t see anyone at first, but then I noticed a lady sitting in her pickup truck with her head resting on the steering wheel. As I approached her pickup truck, we started a conversation. I could see she had been crying. Exhaustion and weariness were written on her face.

As I looked around the area, I could tell this had been a special place before the flood. Looking towards the opposite side of the river from where we were, I noticed the bank was very steep rising from the river, and on top of the hill I noticed a cross. I asked the lady about the cross and she explained this area once had been a summer camp. The cabins had been purchased by individual families years ago and they had started a little homeowners association. The families spent the summers together there as the kids grew up.

The cabins had been built in what looked like a semi-circle pattern. There were only a few severely damaged structures left. Most were simply gone with only cement foundations left where houses once stood.

Stark reality

As the tears flowed along with stories and sweet memories, the stark reality of the present seemed surreal. Several people from that community perished during the flood. In fact, the first funeral was taking place that afternoon in San Angelo.

She told me about her brother who is disabled and in a wheelchair. She pointed to another house and shared that that family also had a child in a wheelchair as they were growing up. When the kids were young, the parents built a wheelchair ramp in the river so her brother and the other little boy could get into the water and play with the other children.

After a time, I asked if I could give her a hug. More tears flowed. In that tender moment, I offered a prayer for her and her community. It’s difficult at times to have words, but God always seems to send a prayer of comfort just at the right time.