"With Hurricane Helene coming our way, should we be concerned?" asked my friend, who had recently moved to our region from up North.
"Nah," I replied nonchalantly. "Whenever a storm brews in the Gulf and comes ashore, we don't feel any real impact. We might get a little more rain than usual. Maybe some gusty winds. But nothing to worry about. In the twenty plus years we've lived here, we've never had any major problems from hurricanes. We're too far inland and at the base of the mountains."
Those proved to be ironic words. They didn't anticipate the "100-year storm."
When Helene arrived early on the morning of Friday, September 27, it wreaked havoc on our area, felling trees and power poles and causing widespread power outages. Three trees and numerous branches from an adjacent property fell on the back corners of our yard. Wind-driven rain found its way into minute spaces above our sliding door, causing leaks. But good ol' duct tape provided a temporary solution.
We survived the initial power outage because there was enough daylight to make our way through the house. But we found ourselves flipping light switches whenever we entered a room or closet.
In a few hours, the storm had passed. We decided to go out to find a place with power where we could get a hot meal. That's when we saw the extent of the storm's fury and admitted that the power outage would not be short term.
We drove to Greer, the closest town, but only after being detoured several times by trees blocking the road. And nothing was open. Everyone was without power. Traffic lights weren't working, and drivers didn't know how to treat the intersections as four-way stops. (They never know how to deal with a four-way stop even when traffic lights are working!)
We drove to Greenville and from there to Travelers Rest in search of some eating establishment that was open. None was. So we headed home, but not without about four or five more detours. It took more than two hours to drive what normally would have taken about 30-35 minutes.
After spending the evening playing Yahtze by lantern and flashlights, we turned in early. What else could we do? Not knowing how long the outage would last, we didn't want to waste batteries, and we dared not open the refrigerator or freezer.
When power was still out the next morning, our daughters insisted that we come stay at their houses three hours away. Thinking it might be a welcome alternative to a couple of days' dark inactivity, we agreed. We packed the meat, eggs, and assorted other foods from the fridge and freezer into a cooler and headed out.
All along the way, we encountered downed trees and power lines, many of them on top of homes, businesses, and other structures. Crews--not only county employees but also citizen volunteers--were out clearing roads, at least enough to allow drivers to maneuver safely around the debris (some just barely).
At our daughters' "refugee center," our youngest daughter kept us busy, insisting that we obey the scripture command to work if we expected to eat. We installed shelving, weeded, babysat two active dogs, etc., and our hostess fed us well. She and her husband also allowed us to crash our son-in-law's birthday party, an event we weren't scheduled to attend.
We also kept checking with neighbors and on the internet to see if our power had been restored. Every time we got the same answer: No. And there was no definite information as to when it might be restored. Maybe Thursday night? Friday night? The final guessitmate was Sunday night--a week later. We finally got power late Saturday night--10 days after the storm hit.
We returned home Sunday morning. We had power--but still no internet, and phone service was spotty. We also faced the unenviable task of cleaning out our refrigerator and freezer. A total loss of all contents. But we were glad we had saved the meat.
We didn't get our internet service back until late afternoon this past Wednesday; hence, my delays in responding to emails and social media posts. Service was restored just in time to follow Hurricane Martin as it hit SW Florida, where my father-in-law and sister-in-law live, and where it would make landfall on the central Gulf coast, where my brother lives.
But through it all, we were even more thankful that we hadn't had to face what the residents of the western North Carolina mountains and East Tennessee are suffering. Total destruction from flooding. Hundreds of deaths. Still more missing.
Also, during the aftermath of the storm, I learned of the death of a dear friend, mentor, and former client for whom I had done a lot of writing and editing. Dr. Charles Walker, a strong advocate for and leader in Christian education, went home to meet his Savior on Sunday, September 29. His death followed close on the heels of the death of Dr. Gerald Carlson, both of whom I've written in earlier posts. Their children married each other, thereby linking two strong Christian school families. Dr. Brian Walker and his wife follow in their fathers' footsteps, and I'm privileged also to continue writing for the younger Dr. Walker.
As bad as one's own circumstances are, there's always someone who is worse off, and we should be grateful for what we have. As someone once said, "I complained that I had no shoes--until I met a man who had no feet."
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