A Year In The Making

It's been nearly a year since Hurricane Helene changed our lives forever. A weather system a few days before, then the hurricane on September 27th, and nothing would be the same ever again. We, my sister Karyn and I, were lucky. Our flooding came off the Swannanoa Mountains in back of us. We didn't experience river flooding, like the waves that twisted and bent the railroad tracks between Swannanoa and Black Mountain. We had hundreds of gallons of water and mud that ran through our yard like a river. Trying to save my stupid goats nearly cost me my life. I'm sure they're very grateful, even though they haven't said as much. When we could finally leave our yard, thanks to some caring neighbors that helps fill the holes in the driveway that the water had left, the scope of destruction was massive. Not at all what we had imagined. A house in the middle of the road to the west and semis tipped over and thrown like a child's toy blocked us to the east. We attempted to get through on Old 70, but that road was blocked as well. Little did we know that beyond the barriers, there was no road left. Disheartened, we turned around and went home. Then the neighbors started coming out. One by one, shell shocked, as we were in the first days after Covid. What had just happened? How did others fare? When would we get power back? It had already been out most of that day. Power would remain out for most of us for two weeks or more. But the neighbors banded together. We turned the church community building into a supply hub. Anyone could come and get canned food, cleaning supplies, diapers, whatever was needed. The one good thing that came out of this was the sense of community. We helped each other when the outside agencies couldn't get in. I'll be forever grateful to organizations like Samaritan's Purse, who brought us fresh water, Silverado's and Valley Strong, who provided generators, blankets and food, Cayte Gowan, who made hot meals, day after day, even in the freezing cold. These people helped us beyond measure. The Cajun Navy, and Cajun Navy 2016, Hearts With Hands, Bounty and Soul, so many more. 

Out of the wreckage, after the waters receded, a new kind of hope was born. We were wet, tired and dirty, but we knew we had to fight for what was ours. For our homes and our families. For our neighbors and friends. And out of the aftermath, our Come Hell Or High Water soap was born. I felt the need to give back to the community, even though I worked right alongside many of them. We chose blue for the water that nearly swept us away, green for the rebirth of the ground after the flood, the wave pattern for the water and the scent, Fern, for the growth that we have encountered. Each soap is made individually, as we all have our different stories. Here's to survival and resilience!