05/11/2025
Before You Speak: A Message About Our DRRM Responders/ Volunteers
To those who watch from the sidelines, comfortable and dry, quick to point out a flaw, a delay, or a perceived failure: We see you, and we hear you. But before you type that critical comment or speak that judgmental word, we ask you to pause and consider a few realities.
1. They are running towards what you are running from.
When the wind howls, the water rises, and the earth shakes, your first instinct is to find safety for yourself and your family. Theirs is to leave their own familiesβoften uncertain of their safetyβto run into the heart of the chaos to find you. They are husbands, wives, parents, and children, just like you. The difference is, they voluntarily put their safety second to yours.
2. A "slow response" is not an "no response."
What you see as "slow" is, on the ground, a team navigating impossible logistics. It's flooded roads, downed power lines, unstable structures, and a thousand simultaneous calls for help. They are not sitting idly; they are prioritizing, triaging, and forcing their way through debris and danger. A single rescue operation can take hours. They are not superhuman; they are bound by the same laws of physics and the same 24 hours in a day as everyone else, but they are stretching them to their breaking point.
3. They are often volunteers, not millionaires.
Many of these responders are not receiving a hero's salary. Many are volunteers who use their own vacation days, spend their own money on extra gear, and sacrifice precious time with their loved ones to train for these very moments. They don't do it for pay or for glory. They do it because they believe in serving their community. Your criticism is a bitter reward for their selfless sacrifice.
4. They see trauma you can't imagine.
You are frustrated because your power is out or your street is flooded. They are carrying the weight of witnessing sights you pray you never see. They are pulling families from wreckage, performing CPR in the rain, and comforting people on the worst day of their lives. They carry this trauma home with them, long after the storm has passed.
5. They are human.
They get tired. They get hungry. They get soaked to the bone and chilled to the marrow. They make mistakes, not from a place of malice or incompetence, but from a place of exhaustion and overwhelming pressure. They are not faceless uniforms; they are your neighbors.
Before you criticize, ask yourself: "What have I done to help?"
If you are not willing to put on a vest, wade through the water, or miss a night's sleep to fill sandbags, perhaps the best thing you can offer is your support. Or, at the very least, your silence.
Instead of tearing them down, lift them up. Offer a prayer. Donate to their organization. Make a meal for their family. And when you see them next, covered in mud and exhausted to their core, don't offer a critique. Offer a simple "Thank you."
Because one day, the person they are running to save might be you.
