When the Water Rose, Effingham Rose with Them

By Gail Parsons

So, when sudden flooding swept through their Effingham County property in August 2025 destroying their home, equipment, and much of what they had built, the response was immediate and deeply personal.

By the next day, friends, former students, neighbors, and complete strangers lined the driveway, ready to help. The kindness the Albrights had poured into the community for years came galloping back.

For more than three decades, horses have been central to Justyne Albright’s life. Seventeen of those years have been spent working professionally in the equestrian industry. Today, alongside her husband, she operates FCS Equestrian Center, a riding school specializing in English disciplines.

“If you want to learn one of the English disciplines, this is the place to come,” she said. “You don’t have to own a horse—we have lesson horses at different levels.”

But at FCS, the horses are only part of the story.

“The horses aren’t just great exercise,” Justyne said. “They teach communication, responsibility, and self-discipline. You must take care of them every day, whether you want to or not.”

The center serves both children and adults, and over the years, Justyne and David have become woven into the fabric of Effingham County and surrounding communities.

Building Community — One Event at a Time

One of the projects Justyne is most proud of came during the pandemic.

“We kept hearing from parents and kids about how much they missed things like trick-or-treating,” she said.

FCS created Trot or Treat.

“We had 13 gates on our property, and each one was decorated and sponsored by a local business,” she said.

Families came. Businesses joined. Kids laughed. For a moment, it felt like normal life again.

But that event, like much else, changed when the Effingham Parkway project cut directly through the Albrights’ land.

Land Lost — and then, the Unthinkable

“Our land was taken by eminent domain in 2020,” Justyne said.

Construction began in 2022, and the effects quickly compounded.

“We’ve downsized quite a bit,” she said. “Hosting events isn’t impossible, it’s just much more difficult.”

Then, in late August 2025, came the night that changed everything.

Justyne was braiding a horse, preparing for a show scheduled the next day. The barn was quiet and familiar. Her husband had gone to the house to start dinner.

Moments later, he returned “white as a ghost.”

“He said, ‘We’re going to have a problem,’” she recalled. “We’d had heavy rain, but nothing unusual. It wasn’t a hurricane, just rain.”

Nothing suggested disaster. But this time, the stormwater didn’t drain as it once had.

“You could see it. It was like a dam breaking,” she said. “Parts of the parkway collapsed, and water poured through. It happened fast.”

Sheets of water raced toward the property, while runoff from nearby subdivision construction funneled down their road. In minutes, ordinary rain became a current.

They didn’t stop to think. Years of caring for animals took over. They loaded feed and hay, moved equipment to higher ground, and began evacuating horses.

Within an hour, parts of the farm were under two to four feet of water.

The main barn stood on higher ground. Others did not.

Help arrived almost as quickly as the flood. Former students, neighbors, and even people who “had hardly ever handled a horse,” Justyne said, lined the drive—walking animals through rising water to safety.

Every animal was saved.

The house was not.

“We lost our home,” she said. “Our equipment, our tools—everything inside.”

What the water didn’t take, it ruined. They left with only what could be loaded before the road disappeared.

What remained was mud, silence, and the reality that the place they had built their life around was no longer livable—while the horses still needed care the next morning.

And Then the Community Showed Up

What happened next, Justyne still struggles to describe.

“It was overwhelming, in a good way,” she said.

Her sister, hundreds of miles away, posted online asking for help. Within hours, the response exploded.

Volunteers arrived before Justyne even realized the post was live. Word spread barn to barn, church to church, county to county.

“By the next day, people were lined up helping us clear out the house,” she said. “It shows how incredible our community is, not just Effingham, but Chatham County and Bluffton, SC too.

Some brought chainsaws and wheelbarrows. Others brought food, water, and gloves.

People who had never met the Albrights stepped into the mud without asking what to do—they simply did it.

They hauled furniture, stacked ruined belongings, moved hay and feed, and stood quietly when words ran out. A disaster scene became a workday, a gathering, a reminder that community is something lived, not just talked about.

Giving Back — Long Before the Flood

Service, Justyne said, has been part of her life since childhood.

“My dad always taught my sister and me that you give back,” she said.

Over the years, she and David have supported charities, churches, schools, and families wherever help was needed.

“If someone asks, we try to help,” she said.

In the days after the flood, that generosity came full circle.

Looking Into 2026

As 2026 approaches, the future remains uncertain. Repairs and long-term mitigation are still unresolved.

“It’s going to take some pivoting,” Justyne said. “We have to factor flooding into everything now.”

Five months later, the flooding issues remain largely unaddressed. “No one is taking responsibility,” she said. “Someone has to be held accountable.”

That frustration has become fuel.

In 2026, Justyne plans to press harder, asking questions she believes more residents should be asking: Who is responsible? How will future flooding be prevented? Who oversees stormwater planning?

Still, one thing remains non-negotiable.

“The lesson program is going on,” she said. “It’s still thriving.”

Looking ahead, Justyne hopes to expand educational clinics, including programs focused on stormwater and land management—turning experience into shared knowledge.

“We’re not the only ones who’ve flooded,” she said.

Despite land loss, uncertainty, and rebuilding still ahead, Justyne remains focused on moving forward.

“We can only go forward,” she said.

And at the center of it all remain the horses—steady, resilient, and constant—carrying a community that never stopped showing up and living out FCS Equestrian Center’s mission: to provide access to equestrian sport while empowering individuals to build strength, independence, and a kinder way to treat others.

In 2026, that mission continues—alongside a louder call for accountability, innovation, and change.