As the waters of the Black River in east-central Vermont rose Monday, some residents were told to get out.

But where to?

That morning, Annunciation parish in Ludlow had put word on a Facebook “Locals” page that the parish hall would be open if needed.

“Our church kind of sits up on a hill, a bluff overlooking the river,” said Father Thomas Mosher, the pastor. “So we were kind of high and dry.”

A dozen people came.

Eileen Dunseith, who lives on high ground a couple of doors down from the parish hall, happened to have a lot of food in her house because she was expecting her five grandchildren to visit for the week, a gathering that was canceled when her husband sustained an injury.

So she went into her kitchen and baked hot dogs in crescent rolls. She also made macaroni and cheese and Boston baked beans, which she brought to the church hall, along with chips, pretzels and juice.

Most of the people there she doesn’t know, she told the Register Wednesday.

“It was a good feeling to do that in the midst of that chaos, to help someone,” said Dunseith, who works in activities at a local nursing home and has lived year-round in the parish for about 10 years, after moving there from Newtown, Connecticut.

Ludlow is one of many towns in Vermont caught in 6 to 9 inches of rain earlier this week during what the National Weather Service called “a historic two-day rainstorm.” The heaviest rainfall was along the Green Mountains in the central part of the state and just east of them.

As Father Mosher explained to the Register, many Vermont towns were built in deep valleys along rivers, which provided rushing water that once powered mills. Torrential rains don’t just cause puddles on the streets and flooding in basements; they also make many roads impassable. In 2011, Tropical Storm Irene dumped damaging rain on the state that left some communities unreachable for days.

In Ludlow this week, Father Mosher said, a portion of a mountain collapsed, taking out the trestle in the Black River that supported railroad tracks that ordinarily serve six freight trains a day. Now, the rails are still there, but nothing is underneath them.

“Hanging in the air — it looks like a laundry line,” Father Mosher said.

Around 8:30pm Monday, word came that people could return to their homes, and most did. But one man in his 20s slept on the parish floor that night. Others came in campers and slept in them in the church parking lot.

Around that same time, a family of five was trying to make it back from Massachusetts to their home in Rutland, about 20 miles northwest of Ludlow, when roads became impassable. Someone told them to try Church of the Annunciation.

“So they came up and said to me, ‘We don’t have anywhere to go.’ And I said, ‘Well, then, you’re coming home with me because you can’t sleep on the church basement floor with three kids,’” Dunseith said.

The mother, father and children (ages 17, 7, and 3) left the next morning, after the waters receded.

Elsewhere in the state, the church hall in Waterbury was also used as an emergency shelter, said Ellen Kane, the editor of Vermont Catholic, the magazine of the Diocese of Burlington, which covers the entire state.

Parish buildings in the town of Cambridge and in the state capital of Montpelier sustained flooding, said Kane, although most Catholic churches in the state were spared.

Athletic fields at Mount St. Joseph Academy in Rutland were flooded, according to a story published by Vermont Catholic.

Additional rain is expected in Vermont later this week, and the National Weather Service has issued another flood warning for Thursday, July 13.

The administrator of the diocese is Archbishop Christopher Coyne, who led the Diocese of Burlington from 2015 until being named this past June 26 the coadjutor of the Archdiocese of Hartford, in Connecticut.

“Let us pray for the safety of all Vermonters as we deal with possible flood and hardships from the recent storms. May God protect us all with his providential care,” Archbishop Coyne wrote on his Facebook page.

The Annunciation church and parish hall stand both north and east of the Black River in Ludlow, a town of about 800 people.

“It’s called High Street, and we’re all really glad that we’re on High Street,” Dunleith said. “Good place to be.”