Christmas Blue y La Luz (the light)

A towering evergreen stands as a symbol of hope and resilience just off I-40 in Swannanoa.

I'm seeking light in these dark days, literally during the shortest daylight hours of the year. The landscape in Swannanoa is still harsh, broken, and brittle.  Though I have seen more cranes, backhoes, and trailers in recent weeks, trash and remnants still cling to the tops of trees along the Swannanoa River, a constant reminder of all we’ve lost.

Almost every time we drive through the rubble, my youngest son Max asks, “Only a few people died in Swannanoa, right mom?”  I nod and lie, “Yes, just a few,” hoping to minimize the great unknowns and vast trauma his little mind is grappling with. My own adult mind is worn out trying to make sense of these mammoth losses, our surrounding morphed landscape, lost lives and livelihoods everytime. 

A truck washed down and overturned during Hurricane Helene is decorated for Christmas just at the entrance to Beacon Village in Swannanoa.

Sad and blue feels like the new normal, further magnified by this time of year when we are supposed to feel joy and be merry and bright.  

Still, I’m awed by the generosity and love pouring out from people across the nation and state. Kids and schools have raised thousands of dollars to send my children and their classmates to W.D. Williams Elementary toys, hoodies, goody bags, books and much more.   My kids come home every day from school with a new something sent from far off places, elated and high on the excitement and anticipation that the season brings. 

I know I should feel more grateful, but I feel hollow and sad; more stuff, more things, objects I know won’t fill the gaping hole inside us right now. I wonder where some people will put it when they have no home, or their homestead is reduced to a small camper or tiny home.

I am grieving, I know, my agitation, angst, anger and sadness is a part of this yucky process of loss and love. I am grieving many things at once and still living in a transformed landscape where we have lost a sense of normalcy and safety, a way of life in this community that will take years to rebuild, heal, and find again.

All the efforts and support are not in vain though. I do believe I will look back one day feeling an even deeper gratitude for the people that have continued to remember us, care for us in our darkest hours. 

Children at W.D. Williams eagerly await the show of the Carolina Panthers and Cheerleaders in their gymnasium.

For my sons, this December they will never forget. In addition to the copious amounts of gifted toys, clothes, blankets, and gift boxes they have received they were ecstatic when the David and Nicole Tepper Foundation partnered with Coca-Cola Consolidated to bring The Carolina Panthers and cheerleaders to their elementary school. No parents allowed, this incredible event was all for them, truly an unforgettable experience with dancing, shows, signing of footballs and so much love poured out on W.D. Williams Elementary located in the heart of the disaster. (Read and watch videos here: Carolina Panthers, DNTF give back to Swannanoa students and staff) 

My oldest son Lucas who had his football and shirt signed by former Panthers Running Back, Jonathan Stewart.  He beamed that day after school and said, “Mom, It was the best day of my life.” I pray for my children that these joyful memories might blot out the more tragic ones from early this year.

As for me I have found some light in the darkness.  After an especially long and low day last week, I rushed hurriedly out of CVS at night and looked up to see a beautiful, gigantic tree glittering with a thousand lights. This tree located just behind the former Athens Pizza in Swannanoa, is crested with brilliant star canopies and army tents, a camper, and an army truck. Its glittering brilliance lit up the inky night and sparked hope in my heart. I later learn that this tree decorating was organized by the Friends and Neighbors of Swannanoa (FANS) with permission from Rush Trucking and lights donated by the North Carolina Arboretum.  This towering evergreen shines with 1500 feet of sparkling bulbs offers a beacon of hope and a sign of our community’s fortitude, resilience as we soldier on.

The light finds me  again several days later driving to work in Hendersonville. Barreling down I-26, drinking coffee and rattling all of my to-dos off in my head, the morning sunrise shocks me out of my usual routine with spectacular light. It’s as if the heavens have cracked open today to offer hope, layers of lemon light braided with rose and lavender hues weaving through the sky.  Feathering clouds, and purple blue mountains steeped against the horizon.  I want to climb that mountain, scream and cry and shout my grievances at God, and breathe the thin air and feel new again.

Just as I pull into my school parking lot a full rainbow arches over the school building. Tears well up in my eyes as I look towards the heavens. Thank you, gracias diosa por la luz!