I don’t live in Wheeling. But I grew up along the river, and I know all too well what happens when the water comes faster than you can prepare. The smell of wet earth. The sound of creeks turning violent. The way time slows when you realize your home, your memories, your sense of safety could all be swept away.

So when the reports started coming in — flash flooding in Wheeling, homes underwater, families stranded — I felt it in my chest. Because I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it. I know what it’s like to pray the water stops rising before it reaches the front steps, before it takes something you love.

On the night of June 14, 2025, the skies opened. What started as a summer rain quickly turned into something catastrophic. In less than thirty minutes, between two and four inches of rain fell over Ohio County. Roads washed out. Bridges disappeared beneath the current. Big Wheeling Creek and Little Wheeling Creek, usually quiet neighbors to the towns they run through, became unrecognizable.

The water came fast. Too fast.

Cars were swept away. People clung to trees. Basements filled in minutes. A mobile home caught fire as water surged around it. First responders launched rescue efforts in the dark, working with kayaks and search dogs, climbing onto submerged vehicles, and pulling people from rising creeks with nothing but ropes and grit.

By morning, the devastation was undeniable.

Five people had lost their lives. Among them was a three-year-old child. At least three others were still missing. Families waited by phones or stood near debris-covered roads, hoping for word, dreading the worst. My heart breaks for them. If you’re one of those families, if you’re waking up to absence, to silence, to a home that feels both familiar and foreign, I hope you know you are not forgotten. The weight of your sorrow is carried by many.

I’ve lived through storms before, but this one hit different. Maybe because I know these kinds of places. Maybe because I can picture the streets, the porches, the people. They remind me of home.

In Wheeling, entire communities were cut off. More than 1,700 roads and bridges closed. Natural gas leaks halted power restoration for thousands. Schools turned into shelters. Elm Grove Elementary opened its doors for displaced families and tired rescue teams. Churches and neighbors began collecting bottled water, gloves, bleach, and diapers. No one waited to be told what to do. They just did it.

Grief hung heavy in the air. But so did grit.

Before the cameras showed up, before federal agencies arrived, the people of Wheeling were already helping one another. Teenagers formed human chains to cross fast-moving waters. Volunteer kayakers combed creeks for trapped neighbors. Meals were delivered. Hands were held. Clothes were handed out without hesitation.

There is something sacred in the way a community shows up when there is nothing left to give but love. It doesn’t erase the pain, but it wraps around it. It holds the broken parts until healing can begin. If you’re feeling overwhelmed right now, I hope you know this: there is no weakness in grief, and no shame in being shaken. You are allowed to sit with the sorrow. But you are not alone in it.

Local officials called it a once-in-a-generation storm. The National Weather Service described it as a slow-moving and rare event. Some creeks rose fourteen feet in under an hour. No warning siren could have sounded fast enough. No roadblock could have stopped it.

And yet, through the heartache and loss, they are still standing.

Wheeling stands. Maybe not upright just yet. Maybe not without bruises or heartbreak. But they are there. Sorting through what’s left. Carrying one another through what comes next. Holding onto hope when it feels out of reach. And even if their voices tremble, they are still speaking kindness into the chaos.

This flood took lives. It destroyed homes. It ripped through the center of communities and left pieces scattered across fields and fences.

But it didn’t take their spirit. It couldn’t.

Because in every flooded basement, in every rescued neighbor, in every prayer whispered from a muddy front porch, hope is still rising.

To the grieving families, your pain is seen. To the weary helpers, your efforts are felt. And to the town of Wheeling, your resilience is a quiet anthem echoing across the hills.

Wheeling may be weary. They may be wounded. But they are not defeated.

And they will rise again.

How You Can Help the People of Wheeling?

If you’re wondering how to help, you don’t have to look far. Here are tangible ways to support families, first responders, and recovery crews on the ground:

1. Donate Essential Supplies

Local shelters and relief teams are in urgent need of:

• Bottled water
• Cleaning supplies (bleach, gloves, trash bags, mops, squeegees)
• Non-perishable food Diapers, wipes, and hygiene items
• Flashlights and batteries

Drop-off location:

Elm Grove Elementary School, 85 Mil Acres Drive, Wheeling, WV

This location is serving both as a shelter and a relief supply hub.

2. Support First Responders and Volunteers

Consider sending:

• Hot meals or grocery gift cards
• Fuel cards for rescue teams
• Overnight lodging for out-of-town responders

Every act of kindness eases the burden for those working around the clock.

3. Make a Monetary Donation

Financial donations help fill critical gaps as needs evolve.

Contact:

Ohio County Emergency Management Agency

Phone: (304) 234-3756

You can also give directly through verified local churches, fire departments, and mutual aid groups.

4. Stay Informed and Stay Clear

If you live locally, please avoid flood zones and damaged roads unless you are part of emergency efforts. Many roads remain closed or compromised, and more rain is in the forecast.

5. Offer Prayer and Encouragement

Whether you believe in the power of prayer, good energy, or simple kindness, offer it freely. These families need strength for the long road ahead, and your encouragement can help carry them through.

Together, we can ease the weight they carry. Together, we can help them rise.