Wednesday after the storm, Johnny dropped me off at the house of someone we had met just 7 weeks earlier. Her husband, Dusten, their family friend Joey and two guys from our church, Drew and Tom, volunteered to head into the disaster zone and lend aid. Our caravan was three deep with two towing heavily loaded trailers. Armed with a property tax bill, a local fire fighter and some other first responder info we headed west.

We stopped at Costco to fill up the vehicles, generators and donated gas cans. A person in the gas line saw us and asked if we were headed to the mtns. When she learned of our trek she handed Dusten $50 to use to help. God was with us and going to get us through.

We were passed by several convoys of police escorted vehicles. One was from CMPD. Our own people coming to the aid of my people. Once we passed Morganton the sights began to change. Signs of flooding and downed trees littered the view. The heartstrings began to prepare us for what was to come.

We made it to our house without complication. It was a relief but also daunting. Our neighborhood had hired a tree company to cut and haul the massive trees that had come down. I wasn’t oblivious to the terror lurking outside our neighborhood entry.

We set out to unload the trailer and get the word out we are serving 80 hamburgers hot off the grill. Our convoy crew set about emptying the trailer and setting up the new garage store in our one car garage. My little hood already knew we were coming and had gathered to see the trailer unload. I set out on foot to find people in need of a hot prepared meal and conversation. I walked adjoining neighborhoods and streets. If a door was open then I knew someone was home letting light in. So I knocked and invited. I didn’t know a soul I spoke with. I went in homes where people were unable to walk to the door to speak with me. Tragedy doesn’t discriminate. We are all in this together. No one turned me away. Some had just eaten, you see with no power and complete darkness, people go to bed much earlier. We operate with the sun. So eating patterns change. I met a lady at her door. She was eating a banana. I extended the invite and she showed me her banana. I told her if she had already eaten no problem. She laughed and said the one banana was her dinner and she happily accepted the invite. I ran into a man who lives in a nearby shattered trailer park on his bike with a milk crate. His crate was loaded with snack bars and Gatorade. He was riding around offering aid. I met a family of five pulling a wagon of women’s hygiene products. The adults were knocking on doors while the kids rode bikes challenging each other to races along the way. We live along the creek so I saw pickups and cars on the banks of the creek scooping up flushing water. This gives us some sense of dignity while we don’t have running water. I also ran into people looking for their loved ones along my route. They had traveled some distance because their friend had not been heard from. The challenge of no communication is horrific for everyone.

I got home and the grill was fired up. My little hood had already arrived in our driveway beside this grill. I later learned this is what they have been doing for each meal. They go in our home, raise the garage door and roll out the grill. They use my grandmother’s prized red teapot and someone else’s French press to make coffee for 15 and fry up anything they can find.

When I got home, our team had unloaded the massive haul and set up our new garage store. Items were sorted by category. They had created a U shaped aisle utilizing every space available. They even made the aisles wide enough for a walker so my neighbors could safely enter and shop.

There was a shelf display of items too. Johnny’s ladder was set up in A frame. Live edge wood I was given from my glass teachers just last Thursday was used to now display essentials.

As I surveyed the garage shop I saw the faces of YOU! I recalled your full arms coming down my driveway over and over again dropping off your donations. The pile had overflowed my porch, filled the sidewalk and stretched down my driveway. Less than 48 hours from the time of my plea, YOUR donations were set up and ready to be picked up by those in desperate need. Shopping was already in full swing.

Drew, grill meister extraordinaire, was on the task of grilling 80 burgers on our tiny grill. My neighbors were already arriving. They brought their camping chairs and enjoyed the new load of bottled water that your provided.

Recah set up tables for condiments and assisted Drew with cooking. Joey and Dusten had begun distribution and deliveries of heavier things. Tom was delivering water, setting up a generator and was EVERYWHERE doing everything.

Neighbors who had been strangers just an hour prior began to walk down our street. I was in disbelief. Chad, our pastor from House of Mercy, Asheville arrived with a car full of people. Other folks from House of Mercy arrived. Some I had just spent the previous Monday with at small group. Chad brought some houseless friends we met just a few weeks before. He brought women and children from the shelter. He also brought women who had just been released from prison and have been attending our church while in prison through our partnership with the day pass program. Here we were, literally ALL walks of life now forever bonded by a flood. We ARE survivors.

I didn’t hear conversation about the flood. I saw smiles, laughter, hugs between strangers and friends who had not yet had that first post flood hug. I could feel the hugs lasting longer than usual. I felt us hugging tighter, needing to let the connection linger. Nothing was NOT ok. Tears and laughs were heard and no one excused their appearance, their stench or their bad breath. Raw, unfiltered, unmasked humanity flooded my mom’s driveway.

I stood back alone for a moment surveying the scene. I wept. The lady with the half eaten banana saw me. She immediately came and embraced me. She didn’t know the story of this home and knew nothing about me but she knew what to do.

Mom’s best friend Ruth arrived. That hug and our tears now flowed freely. The relief of safety, the security in her arms and the look in her eyes fed my soul. She knew my history, she knew the pain I had endured the last few years and the pain we all now endured. She also knew we will come out stronger and more connected than ever.

One of our new friends we met while serving 12 Baskets Cafe: a program of Asheville Poverty Initiative brought his guitar and played. People joined in singing. Another couple picked up the guitar and his wife sang “Stand by Me”. Never had I experienced the song the way I did now. The emotion in her closed eyes and swaying body was palpable. Many joined in with her and we clapped with sincere joy and gratitude.

I asked Pastor Chad to lead us in prayer. I met Chad less than 7 weeks ago on a mission trip to Asheville through our home home church Lake Forest Church-Huntersville. While on that trip I kept feeling like God was doing something so much bigger in my life than those 4 days but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I kept telling Johnny that something but we happening. He felt it too and also couldn’t identify it.

Every Sunday we were in Black Mtn we were now attending House of Mercy and called it our home church. We looked forward to arriving early and catching up with people. We now listened to church services we missed to keep up with the message series. Just the previous Monday, House of Mercy friends Vickie and Jimmy had picked us up and taken us to Jane’s house for small group. Johnny and I are introverts at heart but we play well as extroverts. Here we were WANTING to be among people.

Ok squirrel over. Back to Wednesday night. Darkness was

beginning and Buncombe county is under a 7:30 pm curfew. Total darkness is unsafe because you can’t see cavernous holes in the streets. Our new friends had full bellies, bags and bags of food and smiles on their faces. We shared more hugs and theybegan to walk home and load their cars.

That night our driveway was a haven from the storm. A place of camaraderie, encouragement, essential supplies and HOPE! The six of us sat in the quiet, cool evening and processed our experiences. There were no words. We recognized we are forever changed.

A few weeks ago Chad said “The fruit of our lives is experienced in connection with others”. Spot on man, spot on.

YOU made this happen. YOU showed up for my people. YOU brought them hope, compassion and virtual hugs they felt. We know we will be ok. It will take time, hard work and patience. You have our backs, you hold our hearts in yours and hold us tightly when we need it. We are not alone and you won’t forget us. We ARE “Brave in All Things” and we ARE Black Mountain STRONG!!!

© Gatewood Campbell, October 2024