Melanie Golladay’s Post

🌍 Texas is a vital stop for birds! Each spring, about 1 in 3 migrating birds and 1 in 4 in the fall pass through our state—nearly two billion birds in total! Many North American birds migrate at night, but city lights can confuse and disorient them, leading to dangerous collisions with buildings. Sadly, 100 million to 1 billion birds die each year due to these structures. That’s why we need Lights Out, Texas!—a campaign dedicated to educating and taking action to protect our migratory birds. ✨ HOW TO PARTICIPATE: ✨ Building owners, businesses, and homeowners can help by turning off non-essential nighttime lighting from 11:00 p.m. to 6:00 a.m. Want to learn more about the Lights Out, Texas! initiative? (Link in bio) Click here: https://bit.ly/3v18pGz

Picture a firefighter sitting idly at the station, feet kicked up on a worn-out coffee table, helmet at the ready but gathering dust. Suddenly, a bell rings. Without a moment's hesitation, he's in action, instinct and training merging into a life-saving flurry of activity. Dr. Alex McFarland’s recent commentary on apologetics channels this stark contrast: unnecessary in quiet times, indispensable in crisis. Apologetics, the firefighter of faith, might be lounging when the world is calm—but when uncertainties blaze up, its heroics shine. And just like every town needs its fire station, every believer needs a well-equipped arsenal of knowledge. 💡 Frequently overlooked until the flames of doubt rage, apologetics equips one to dive into the inferno of skepticism armed with truth. Yet, how often do we let our doctrinal fire extinguishers sit, collecting intellectual cobwebs? 🌱 Imagine a garden. In serene, sun-drenched months, the gardener's tools might lounge gracefully under the shed. But come the tempest or an invasive plant, they become crucial. An unprepared gardener soon finds himself engulfed in chaos—similarly, faith ungrounded finds itself vulnerable to the storms of cynicism and skepticism. 📉 Our prediction? A future pivot towards holistic spiritual readiness. Just as communities value preparedness in material disasters, the spiritually vigilant will prioritize their theological toolkit. It's a call to proactive, not reactive, faith. Regardless of whether the skies are clear or clouds loom ominously, keeping our apologetic tools sharp isn't just wise—it's essential. The question isn't if the storm will come, but when. ❓ What’s in your theological toolkit? A dusty helmet or a well-oiled juggernaut ready to face the blazing questions of modern-day inquisitors? 🔸 Embrace perpetual readiness. 🔸 Equip not just for times of calm, but for inevitable storms. 🔸 Take heed from the quiet firefighter, always ready. 🔸 Anticipate the skeptical inferno; awards to those best-prepared. 🏆🔥✨ The world might seem tranquil now, but the astute know: tranquility is the breeding ground for complacency. Stay vigilant. #FaithUnprepared #SpiritualPreparedness #TheologicalVigilance #Apologetics #BePrepared https://lnkd.in/emdgfXDV

https://lnkd.in/eymWQRHw Wind, rain, more wind, more rain and of course the daffodils (which are being blasted) in the equinoctial gales.

Time to start replanting trees back into our community. This will help with that planning. https://lnkd.in/ge33TCp8   

The Curious Case of the Wild West in Florida The hurricanes Helene and Milton may have come and gone, but what they left behind was chaos, confusion, and a scene that felt straight out of the wild West. The road to Florida was anything but quiet, as my family and I—Sean, Clifton, and I—loaded up supplies and headed south to help my parents recover from the storm’s aftermath. But this wasn’t just any journey. It was a bizarre mix of bumper-to-bumper traffic, endless caravans of utility trucks, and some of the wildest, most unpredictable people you could imagine. Drivers who, in an instant, would veer across lanes, as if the rules of the road no longer applied. Cars packed to the brim with everything from generators to plywood, creating a real-life convoy that snaked its way through the Southern landscape. Yet, in the middle of all the madness, there was a surprising kind of beauty. Horse farms dotted the hillsides, their elegant fences winding over the rolling green hills, looking as serene as ever. It was a strange contrast—the calmness of nature juxtaposed against the frantic energy of people just trying to survive in the storm’s aftermath. It struck me that these moments of calm and chaos often define resilience. As we crawled forward in traffic, patience thinning, I wondered if this was a reflection of life itself—a series of challenges where the only way to cope is to keep moving forward, no matter how slowly. Just like those utility trucks lined up to restore power, we were all in it together, each with our own role to play in rebuilding what was broken. But in the wild West of post-hurricane Florida, sometimes the only certainty is that there will be a lot of craziness before things get better. The curious case of resilience and community—it’s not always pretty, but it’s what gets us through the storm. #CuriousCaseOf #HurricaneRecovery #Resilience #PostHurricane #WildWestFlorida #StormSurvivor #CommunitySupport #FamilyFirst #FloridaStrong #UtilityCrews #RoadToRecovery #HelpingHands #TravelDiaries #ChaosAndCalm #RebuildTogether

Experiencing fire damage to your home can be very traumatic, as your home is where memories are made. That’s why ServiceMaster Restoration by Martin makes every effort to restore your home the way you remember it. We want to put the devastation of fire or smoke damage behind you so that you can make new memories.

The lessons I've learned through the lens of human suffering and natural disasters.

Hi folks. Popping on here to relay some thoughts after living through Hurricane Helene the past few days. First off, sending loves to those of you who are feeling the impact of the catastrophe, and I hope that you and your loved ones are safe and recovering. I was born and raised in the mountains of Western North Carolina, where was visiting family when the hurricane hit. The region (and Asheville especially, which has been booming in recent years) was considered a climate refuge. It has a lot of moisture, isn’t near the coast, is protected by mountains and natural areas, hasn’t experienced major wildfires, etc. Yet, it was just crushed with one of the most severe climate catastrophes that the nation has seen in decades. If you haven’t seen much about the devastation, its bad, incredibly, unbelievably bad. Entire towns are wiped off the map, with buildings, bridges, and roads floating down the river. Roads look like they’ve experienced high magnitude earthquakes and areas near waterways look like they’ve experienced a tsunami. For maybe two days, every interstate in or out of the region was blocked by landslides or collapsed bridges and there was no cell service (let alone electricity/water/gas). Many homes were lost and far too many lives. Recovery will take years and billions of dollars. Climate change became real to me in a very new way. All that mattered boiled down to the very basics: family, friends, and community well-being, a safe environment, and sufficient infrastructure. In some ways, there was a beauty that came with this. The distractions and disconnections and even the ease that comes with modern life disappeared, and communities stepped up to support one another, because that was literally all there was- each other. Just wanted to share this, because it is really hitting me that the work we are trying to do in the environmental field cannot be abstracted. We must have unprecedented creativity, passion, vision, and solidarity to come together- with communities centered- to rise to the challenges that face us. And we cannot continue to ignore the intersectionality of the crisis, related struggles, and root causes in the way that has been the status quo. I am grateful for the opportunity to help pursue a better world through my work at EDF, supporting communities in building resilience, reclaiming culture, and connectedness to nature. To sum it up, I am disillusioned with a lot of the way society is living and coping, but I also have more hope than ever because friends, neighbors, colleagues, and strangers have inspired it within me. If anyone wants to donate to mutual aid efforts bringing supplies to some of the rural communities cut off from resources, I am helping to redistribute funds on the ground. My Venmo is (currently suspended)...

As leaders in the storm restoration industry, it’s our duty to set the standard. A repair-first approach should be the norm, not the exception. By investing in innovative solutions that emphasize repairs—especially in critical areas like vinyl siding—we can transform how we respond to storm damage and improve overall community resilience. Let’s champion change together!

We didn’t start the fire… But it was burning while our wheels were turning. We were camping just north of Baker County, OR when the Durkee Fire erupted last Wednesday. It was the first and only cloudy day we saw throughout our 3 week stay outside La Grande, OR. We were hoping the dark storm clouds would drop even a little rain to moisturize the bone dry landscape, But instead of rain, dry lightning showered the dry hills of Eastern Oregon, sparking dozens of fires. We saw the smoke from one such fire from the kitchen window of my sister in law’s house, and learned of two more surrounding her brother’s house as he helped us set up our family DnD game. So far, his home, kids, and animals are safe.  Sunday was a travel day for my nomadic family, As we drove toward Idaho, the smoke from the Durkee fire inundated the Durkee Valley, providing a dark post apocalyptic backdrop to the monolithic Ash Grove Cement Plant. Now camped just southeast of Boise, the smoke from the Durkee and a dozen other fires still dominate our sky.  Yet, while it may be the largest fire in the country, the Durkee fire is not an unusual occurrence in the arid western United States. And although we must protect property and lives from the devastation such fires inflict, Fire is a necessary element in the western ecosystem, removing waste, adding nutrients to the soil, and providing essential opportunities for new growth. So, the question is not how can we prevent fires altogether, It’s how to enable the essential benefits while limiting the negative externalities emanating from their raw power. #durkeefire #nomads #dnd #wildfiremitigation #wildfires #smokeyskies