Mountain Strong! My Journey Home!
Grace Sears
Junior Advertising and Public Relations Major at UNC-Chapel Hill | Double Major in Communication Studies | Minor in Conflict Management
Last week, I shared my story about Hurricane Helene hitting my beautiful hometown, Boone. As I write this week’s Graceful Impact blog, my heart is still heavy with disbelief and sadness, but now it’s filled with joy, overwhelming love, and peace.
Last week, I kept feeling this call to come home. Even though it meant putting school work aside and potentially falling behind, those worries felt insignificant compared to the destruction just three hours west of Chapel Hill.
On Saturday morning, I decided to drive to Boone. My car was filled to the brim with donations, and as I listened to my “Jesus” music, a sense of loneliness crept in. But as the journey continued, a wave of peace washed over me. I found comfort in the sight of countless trucks and trailers making their way up the mountain, not for leisure, but brimming with supplies and open hearts, ready to aid in the healing process.
As I drove up the mountain and into Boone, I recognized familiar sights—the mountain terrain, now butchered by water, the gorgeous orange leaves, no longer on the tree tops, and the ancient trees no longer standing tall. The mountains seemed to weep, yet they remained resilient, filled with love and strength. The devastation I saw on my phone was much more heart-wrenching in person because it truly was.
Everywhere I looked, there were large trailers labeled “natural disaster relief.” It felt surreal to see that in Boone.
Upon arriving home, I was met with warm hugs from my parents and sister—comfort I had been yearning for, especially at a time when many no longer had that comfort.
Later that morning, I went to my high school to volunteer and help the communities in need. I just showed up, along with other students and some of my favorite teachers, greeting everyone with warm hugs. Walking through those doors suddenly my struggles felt so small because they are.??
At that moment, standing near the towering wall of 10-foot diapers meant for families in need, I felt a feeling of guilt. My family had experienced minimal damage, while many of those I met had lost everything. Some families were left with just one cart of supplies—ONE CART. It didn’t seem like enough, but it would have to do.
Beyond the diaper station, I saw shelves filled with everyday necessities—everything you could think of. Toiletries, groceries, paper products, toys, pet supplies, cleaning supplies, and, most importantly, a STRONG community.
As individuals came in to get supplies, they were greeted at the door and guided through the gym, uncertain about what the next days or weeks would hold. As I served at the high school, I handed out items with a smile and a heavy heart, wishing I could do more for them.
When I finished at the high school, I made my way home. Navigating the muddy roads and sidewalks scattered with debris, I looked up to see a breathtaking orange and pink sunset painting the mountain tops. This was normal—the peace of the mountains, untouched. That night, I prayed a little longer than usual, feeling so blessed.
The next morning at my local church, Alliance, which is serving as a hub for Samaritan’s Purse donations and volunteer coordination, I walked in alongside hundreds of others, many wearing bright orange t-shirts. I even walked in to see my dance teacher of many years who with tears in her eyes, we shared a warm hug while she told me they had just finished gutting the studio after all the flooding, what a long road ahead for everyone. We thanked the Lord for the chance to gather and discuss what’s next…
That got me thinking—what is next?
The news will move on, the helicopters will land one last time, donations will dwindle, and local businesses may struggle to pay rent. The half-destroyed roads will eventually become impassable, the Blue Ridge Parkway will no longer be a therapeutic drive, and the rivers will carve entirely new routes through our town.
Yet we, the people of Appalachia, will still be here, facing months of uncertainty, enduring change, and breaking through the pain of loss.
Before heading back to school on Sunday night, I took a short walk at my favorite spot in Boone with my best friend. Debris and mud were everywhere, and a lingering smell filled the air. Yet, many people were out, trying to take a relaxing walk amidst the chaos, seeking a sense of normalcy. Although the scenery looked much different than before, I knew it wouldn't be long until these mountain people restored what was lost.
It feels strange to say, but my simple 48-hour trip home deepened my love for the place I grew up. Strangers came together, becoming friends and soon family. The community is more connected than ever, filled with hope and resilience.?
I headed back late Sunday night along with many empty trucks and trailers heading down the mountain. Driving away from the orange and pink sunset I turned up my music and looked out beyond the Parkway, what a gift this place is. We are going to get through this. Together, we will be okay.
As I mentioned in my first blog about Hurricane Helene, I ask for prayers of guidance and healing as we move forward from this disaster. I also encourage you to be thankful for the life you live and hug those you love most—these moments are precious and never guaranteed.?
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#MountainStrong
If you’re interested in supporting relief efforts in Western North Carolina, I’ve provided links below:
Creative Videographer, Senior Advertising and Public Relations Student
5 个月You are so amazing Grace! Continuing to think of you and Boone.