.Guest blogging: From Sarah.

My summer had been meandering along at a nice relaxing pace. I was conscious of the incessant rain on the eastern coast of Australia that I was hearing about from family and friends, I knew it was inconvenient for many, for others it had been much worse. I hoped for a reprieve from those affected but was largely moving along with my life. Then Monday night, my increasingly growing pregnant belly had me awake in the early hours and as I switched on the news for the first time I really stopped and looked and listened and realised.

I watched a wall of water thrash its way down once peaceful country roads, destroying everything in its path. I saw frightened families clinging to their roofs as water inched ever closer, completely covering their homes. Cars, trucks, whole buildings, washed away. Lives destroyed so suddenly and without warning. The terror of Toowoomba, so aptly described as an inland Tsunami, brought a very visual realisation of the desperation of the situation all of Queensland was facing. And as the week’s events have continued to unfold, with the flooding of Brisbane and so many of its surrounding areas, I think all of Australia has held its breath, terrified at the mighty magnitude of this disaster.

The aftermath that is beginning to emerge has been likened to a war zone. Three quarters of the state, equivalent to the size of all of Germany and France combined, have been hit by floods. 118,000 residences have been left without electricity. 11,900 homes are completely flooded with a further 14,700 partially flooded, many of which will never be habitable again. Brisbane, the third largest city in Australia is shut down. Businesses are closed, infrastructure destroyed. The threat of disease and infections spreading as the water recedes is ever present.

And looking beyond all of these harsh facts are the very personal stories. For me it is a friend, desperately asking for prayers as he waits for news of his sister and her baby, trapped in their home in Toowoomba as the fierce waters rage around them. It is my sister-in-law trying to feed her family as roads to much needed supplies are cut off and water continues to creep closer to their door. My brother stocking up on anything he can find left at the store, unsure when he and his family will be able to access food again.

It is the story of parents, sacrificing their own lives to save their children. A boy who insists his younger brother be rescued first, only to be washed away before he has a chance to be saved himself. People desperately searching through the debris for their neighbours. And thousands of stories I don’t know, personal tragedies too numerous to count. I think the Premier described it best when she spoke of her experience flying over the affected areas.

“I could see hundreds of roofs yesterday and that’s all I could see was those rooftops… underneath every one of those roofs is a family, underneath every one of those roofs is a horror story.”

But beyond the horror is the heroism, as individuals step up in so many ways. While the recovery effort ahead is immense, and each of us may feel helpless in so many ways, there is always something, no matter how small it may seem, that each of us can do to help. The days and weeks and months ahead will reveal so much. I believe it will reveal far more than just the destruction left by such an incomprehensible disaster.