I am often asked how Hurricane Helene recovery is going in and around Black Mountain. The answer is complicated. I look around and see many things that look nice, but they are vastly different than they once were. I routinely pass a mobile home that came to rest in a ditch that became a raging river. Did the family evacuate safely and where are they now? Just down the street is the foundation of a home that was recently razed A friend just recently moved into her renovated home that took a massive hit from the storm. Roads and bridges that were heavily damaged are slowing being repaved and repaired. It is slow, steady and constant, but positive steps in recovery are happening everywhere.

Those are different types of recovery one can see, but there is another side of recovery that I believe is the most powerful part of recovery in the aftermath of Helene. I have finally given myself permission to say aloud that my life is richer, joyful and more meaningful after the storm. We live in a small neighborhood of 39 homes on three short private roads. Many are retired and lead very busy lives with their friends, hobbies, and so much more. Before Helene, we exchanged pleasantries at the mailbox, might wave when passing neighbors, or occasionally had a quick inconsequential conversation with neighbors. The weekend before the storm, our neighborhood had our annual fall potluck and I couldn’t tell you the names of anyone I talked to. Johnny and I sat beside a couple who had just moved into the neighborhood. He and Johnny chatted about golf and I think I may have spoken to his wife. That was that. We patted ourselves on the back for pretending that we wanted to know the people around us. 

When warnings that a strong hurricane was headed towards Western North Carolina, many of our neighbors on the lowest street near the creek, left before the storm. Some happened to be out of town on vacation and some of the part-time residents were elsewhere. The morning of September 27, when Helene moved on, everyone was outside surveying damage and sharing in the shock of the disaster. For the most part we walked around in a complete daze for 48 hours or so. As our new reality began to set in, we realized the only way to survive was with each other. Johnny wheeled our small Aldi flat top grill to the front yard and offered to cook any food people had, since we knew it was all going to go bad soon. I still remember the pitiful attempts we made at “brewing” coffee with just water and coffee grounds. A couple days later a neighbor loaned us her French Press and it radically changed our morning breakfasts. We still laugh about the horrible coffee and the magic of a French Press. 

For days, our neighbors gathered around our small grill and had breakfast, lunch and dinner together. We savored every single bite of our bizarre meal combinations and we began to bond on the most basic human level. We were all in the exact same circumstance, no power, no water, and no cell service. When the things that keep us inside are gone, people go outside, conversations ensue and people get to know each other. Helene quickly turned our neighborhood into a family. 

Hurricane Helene roared through Western North Carolina 646 days ago and for my husband and me, we are not ashamed to say we are grateful to have been here. Today, when I walk our streets, I know who lives in each home. I know where some of them lived before Black Mountain and I know what their career is or was before retirement. I know the names of their pets, their children, and for some I even know where the kids and grandchildren live. When we are outside, without fail, a neighbor passes by and more often than not a conversation of 5-25 minutes might happen. We talk about anything and everything because we genuinely know and care for each other. We no longer toss a hand up and wonder who the driver was. When we pass each other on the road, we stop, roll down the window and catch up. Johnny and I sometimes take leftovers to some of the precious widows on our street. Inevitably, I’m asked to come in for a visit and an hour later I am headed back home. Johnny just shakes his head and laughs because he knows that our neighbors are our family, we genuinely love each other and find joy in being invested in each other. Our mountain house has become our home. 

Prior to the storm, we lived inside our house and inside the privacy of the fence around our patio. After the storm, we live our lives outside of our house. We host quarterly themed gatherings with incredible food, games, prizes and a lot of loud laughter. We often reminisce about those raw days after Helene, acknowledge that our community came out stronger and are grateful to have experienced it with each other.

A few weeks after Hurricane Helene, I was passing through Swannanoa, a community that was wrecked beyond belief by Helene, heading back to a relief center in Black Mountain for a hot meal. I saw a sign that read “Jeremiah 29:11”, and I wept. Jeremiah 29:11 says “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” I sobbed an ugly cry and cried out to God, doubting how this storm was part of any plan and how in the world would good come from this? I was driving through a community that was literally flattened and there was no way any of us could have hope for the future. I doubted God and I was so angry that He had allowed this disaster to hit a place we love. That moment was pivotal in my life, because once I questioned God, He stepped in and began to prove to me that He would prosper me, protect me, give me hope and a richer future, in the midst of the storm. 

For me, Hurricane Helene changed by life for the better. It has taken me a long time to be able to say that aloud, knowing others are still suffering immensely, but I understand recovery happens on a spectrum. As physical recovery is actively happening around me, I willingly admit that my personal and emotional Helene recovery has led to a richer and more genuine life. In the days after the storm, I was discouraged, angry and confused. Almost two years later, my personal Helene recovery continues to evolve and I remain thankful for the opportunity to have been here in the midst of the chaos.

© Gatewood Campbell, July 2026

This weekend has been filled with all the feels and I mean ALL of them. After a very full week of stained glass we landed upon the one year anniversary of Helene, an historic natural disaster. I was not planning to see videos and pictures of the aftermath I had never seen. My FB feed was full of new to me footage. I had not seen much of the damage because I was in the mountains so much and I had no cell service. When in Huntersville I was focused on collecting the supplies you and many others sent to our home and hauling them to the mountains every few days. While I am aware of the aftermath I had not seen the real time flooding. I walked through the trauma all over again because much of it was new to me. It has shaken me.

Yesterday we went to the town square that held daily meetings and announcements for weeks following Helene. The square was where we found those understanding our emotions and also where we found supplies, resources and advice. The town square represented hope and recovery.

Yesterday we walked among strangers who silently understood. We didn’t need to speak. Those with whom we locked eyes, saw the grief, the gratitude and the hope. We sang and swayed to live music, visited the on site counseling as well as free fairy hair from Mountain Fairy Hair, free face painters, free ice cream from The Hop and free balloon artists. We ended the day with a couple of my besties (I found because of Helene) for chili, my homemade apple pie and a crazy competitive game of Apples to Apples.

This morning we were greeters at our home church in Asheville, House of Mercy, Asheville. It was good to be among those we bonded with post Helene. We all understood the spectrum of emotions flowing from the waters of Helene. We embraced, we held tightly and our pastor reminded us that when we walk through the suffering together we find love. His words rang true with me. I found love and I worshipped with people I love, trust and depend upon.

This afternoon our little neighborhood gathered for our annual fall picnic under a gazebo that required repairs following Helene. We expressed our gratitude for the larger community, YOU, who answered my calls for help and supplies in those immediate weeks. We were reminded of the horrific coffee Johnny attempted to make until you sent French Presses. We remembered the crazy meals we ate when we had to cook the last of the safe perishables in our refrigerators. We remembered the farm fresh unwashed eggs you supplied which needed no refrigeration and provided protein rich foods for us for weeks. We also learned how to take each others leftovers home instead of taking our own uneaten food home. After we ate, each of us filled our to go boxes with full meals for those unable to come as well as each other.

Helene brought so much in so many ways. She destroyed our land, homes and many livelihoods. What we have witnessed in the recovery is determination, resilience and love.

We are rising from the waters that tried to drown us. We will recover… better, smarter and stronger because we do it together.

What a weird time. Fall Craft week for me was weird. I was distracted, never found my groove and actually gave up on the last piece I was working on. I think my head was full of the horror that struck WNC on Sept 27th.

Last year we went to Ingles and bought a ton of perishables as did everyone in line around us. I came home and made a huge pot of chili. It’s worth repeating, if you have any chance of losing water and the ability to flush toilets, eating chili for days (we reheated it in the flattop) is a HORRIBLE idea! We drove around Montreat to see the water levels and headed home. We had NO idea. I remember putting my phone on charge around 10 pm because the news said we might lose power. Neighbors a half mile from us were under mandatory evacuations. Still… no CLUE what was headed our way.

Tonight we are facing another storm and we are being warned to prepare. It doesn’t take much to rattle us and our community. Today we went to the grocery store and stocked up on water, batteries and protein heavy soups. I made sure we have plenty of peanut butter crackers, granola bars and farm fresh unwashed eggs that will be good left out. I was at Walmart tonight and the cashier told me the trends today are exactly like Sept 26th. An early evening surge of shoppers and a run on items preparing for power loss. Is it because hurricanes are brewing or is it PTSD? Both.

Everywhere we went today people were talking about the weather, wishing people luck and safety. We don’t take a storm of any magnitude lightly. One lady told me that her FEMA money JUST came through this week. This! This is why we are fed up, displaced and surrounded by debris. The road to our home still has one home split in half and perched in the creek and one home leaning in a ditch. Many have been condemned and sit abandoned and overgrown. One condemed home was finally leveled last week and the debris hauled away. One home under repair has a camper behind it where the family is temporarily living. Somewhere there are people who called those places homes. Where are they? Did they make it to higher ground? Was their insurance enough to cover any part of their loss? Did FEMA come through for them or is FEMA holding out on them?

There are so many stories on all spectrums. Those who lost everything, those who lost nothing and everything in between. It has taken me a full year to admit out loud my life is better post Helene. In the recovery I saw genuine and raw humanity. I saw those in need and many of you fulfilling the tangible things my neighbors needed. I saw the goodness of strangers. I found people I now call my best friends. A couple of them are coming over for dinner tomorrow night. I’m making chili because I’m turning the page on Helene, shoving it in her face and turning the page on the last year. It’s time for a new chapter.

We have more heart. We are stronger. We will survive.

Last September I was in my crafty world of Adult Craft Week finishing my stained glass masterpiece. It was raining. It was raining a lot. They warned us a storm was coming. We half-ass prepared.

And Hurricane Helene.

She came, she went and she spared nothing. We did not know how much our life would change. Our home was spared. Our eyes remain traumatized by the sights and our ears are traumatized by the sounds. The days, weeks and months that followed have been filled with survival, gratitude, empathy and down right raw humanity.

We are 8 months post Helene. Reminders of the destruction are everywhere. This week I watched earthmovers crawl through our creek clearing and cleaning debris. A crazy looking creek crawler picked it up, loaded it and walked it out of the creek. I met a couple who lives along the creek. It’s been their home over 40 years. Her grandmother, who lived in Ridgecrest, told stories of the 1916 flood. She had never grasped the images her grandmother spoke of, animals, rooftops and entire homes rushing downhill. When warnings of a storm were made, she recalled the stories her grandmother had told her. She wasn’t taking any chances. They collected as much as they could, moved things to beds and got the heck out of dodge on Wednesday.

And Hurricane Helene.

They returned home Friday afternoon after Helene unleashed hell. The couple’s home suffered tragic damage. They had to leave for 4 months while everything in their home 4’ and below was cut out and replaced. They moved what they could salvage to storage. Then it was threatened by the nearby wildfires. They shrugged their shoulders, looked at each other and said they continued to remain thankful they survived.

I asked about insurance. Nope, no help. I asked about FEMA, nope no help. They were offered a buy out, but it wouldn’t cover finding somewhere else in Black Mountain. They were determined to stay, in the home they raised their family, beside the of the stump of the grand tree their children once played in and swung high above Flat Creek. Feeling a connection and kinship I asked how they were able to come home. Without hesitation they said it was the kindness of strangers. They said church groups, volunteers, anonymous donors and Samaritan’s Purse brought them home. They said they still don’t know the people who put them back in their home, but they remain amazed, thankful and blessed.

I stood beside them watching in awe as these magical machines hauled the debris from the creek they loved. I told them they are the picture of perseverance and I was sorry they had to endure some of the worst. They told me they undoubtedly consider themselves fortunate. Homeless for 4 months, no easy method of rebuilding, salvaged belongings threatened by wildfires; and they consider themselves fortunate.

The man told me he worries about his wife and her severe anxiety. She shook her head agreeing withth him. We have had a LOT of heavy wind and rain this week. She told me she can’t sleep when the weather is intense. I know this is a common experience for many in our valley . The PTSD is real and I am not sure one can ever recover from the sights, sounds and the nightmare of Helene.

The couple raised their children beside a quaint and playful creek for over 40 years. They never wanted to go anywhere else, so they stayed. They aren’t sorry they stayed. I thanked them for sharing their story with me. They thanked me for giving them to time and space to share and listen.

Everyone here has a story. The specifics vary, but the horror, fears and anxiety remain the common denominator. People here want to talk about the experience. It’s part of the healing. It helps to share with others who experienced it and also with those who can’t imagine. We are the only ones who can educate and advocate for our area.

© Gatewood Campbell, June 2025

We decided to drive over to Blowing Rock this week. It was our first time there since Helene. We go through Old Fort and take the back roads. The damage from Helene is still stunning. The river bed is FULL of rocks. So many rocks. So many trees. There wasn’t a single time I didn’t see a downed tree. There were places with just one down and then places with 20-30 flat on the ground, oddly perched atop boulders, leaning on the mudslides that uprooted them, others held up only by other trees, some living and some uprooted. It’s devastating and overwhelming all at the same time. There is simply so much work to do. We were encouraged to see areas of the equipment that was in our creek this week. You can see the excavator tracks along the creek beds with neatly stacked freshly cut trees. We saw many temporary bridges and crossed several. There were many single homes and properties with brand new bridges. It begs us to wonder how long they were cut off from assistance. If it was their driveway what did it cost them to reconnect with the main road? Helene spared nothing. I worry for the trauma of those residents. How do you ever recover the feelings of safety and security in your own home? What about the kids? Will their minds ever be stilled?

We finally hit the Blue Ridge Parkway and happier sights. The vastness of our land is striking. The clouds hung low and cast stunning shadows on the mountains. Today we could really see the shades of blues showed beautifully and reminded us why they are called the Blue Ridge Mountains. I looked upon the landscape knowing that God gave us that sight and I have to trust that He will control the recovery as well.

We returned home to find that our dry creek bed had been completed. The day before the storm we knew our home was in danger of flooding. That Wednesday so much rain fell that we had two inches of standing water on our permeable patio. With the storm barreling in Johnny knew he had to shore up the yard. He spent all day Thursday digging a ditch and secured the house side with sand bags from Lowe’s that JUST reopened along with a few sandbox sandbags from our local ACE Hardware. The last of their sandbags had just walked out the door as Johnny walked in. Did you know 25 sandbags cost the same as 5 sandbox sandbags? We learned that little known fact. That ditch and those sandbags saved our home from destruction. Without it we would have been completely flooded out. Around 9:30 AM the ditch overflowed and cut through the sandbags. Thankfully the storm moved on and we were spared. Until now we have had sandbags as yard decor. Today the creek bed reminds us of the destruction and also the beauty that can rise up. Our incredible landscaper beautifully avoided the silly waving frog atop Mom’s ashes and delicately holding Monkey’s collar. I sat outside and listened the the creek that barreled through WNC destroying anything and everything near it. Flat creek welcomed me home as if she was saying “I got you”, “you will survive and so will those you worry about”. She brought music tonight and will lull us to sleep. Singing birds will wake us up. We will face another day intent on sharing the needs of our neighbors and working for recovery for our hearts, souls and land.

© Gatewood Campbell, April 2025