Hope Against Hope

"In the worst moments, the best of humanity shows up.”

Jose Andres, Chef and Founder of World Central Kitchen

Cataloochee Divide Trail Area, Great Smoky Mountains National Park-Photo credit Thomas Rodeck 

It’s a rollercoaster of emotions, from a throbbing grief to slim glimmers of hope.  The juxtaposition of devastation and beauty, an autumn oak with fire-colored leaves, in front of a condemned home leaning off its foundation, an overturned car, discarded like a Coke can on the riverbank, a brilliant azure sky shining just above.

On the radio, I heard an interview with the owner of Zukauckas Construction LLC. , who came down from Newville Pennsylvania. The owner had never even been to the Asheville area before, committing his time, resources and  equipment bringing a team of over 60 folks to help repair homes, powerlines, and landscaping in our area. I read posts of the phenomenal local non-profit Beloved, rebuilding homes, reuniting people with treasured belongings, gifting guitar

Yet, I feel the sting of a thousand tiny deaths in my daily life. I think about going to grab an Italian sub at Zella’s Deli down the road, just relocated to Swannanoa this fall, only to realize it’s gone.  The desire to visit a friend who once lived a 10-minute dive, now a thirty-minute detour makes anxiety, stress and anguish churn in my stomach. I feel a sinking sadness driving daily through what feels and looks like a warzone, trees ripped down, trash scattered in tree limbs clawing at the sky, remnants of people's life piled beside the road I see tents staked out on land beside the Swannanoa River, residents clinging to the only thing they have left, their land. 

A rainbow over the Swannanoa Valley 3 days after Hurricane Helene hit.

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However, wading through these daily losses and griefs there are rays of light, of hope. On this gray morning after the first rain we’ve had since Helene, I am latching on to the hope swelling in my heart as I read that last night at “Concert for the Carolina’s,” hosted and created by Luke Combs and Eric Church, over 24 million dollars for Western North Carolina. I can’t help but feel a deep and overwhelming gush of gratitude for the unfathomable love and commitment people are pouring into our region.

Danny Valdez and Cheryl Antoncic (from Asheville’s Bear’s Smokehouse) with World Central Kitchen in Grovemont, Swannanoa, the day after Helene hit.

I continue to see free food cooked from organizations all over the country. I am blown away to learn that World Central Kitchen, who was literally on the ground here in Swannanoa, day 2, has served Western North Carolina and parts of Eastern Tennessee over 100,000 hot meals in the last month, working with local restaurants and chefs and volunteers, many of them area food industry that are currently without work.

As the founder of World Central Kitchen, Jose Andres says, "In the worst moments, the best of humanity shows up.” The best of humanity has shown up here in Western North Carolina, in a way I honestly didn’t think was possible.

And in this deeply divided nation on the eve of another tight and bitter election, I still have hope that humanity, love, kindness and care is buried deep within all of us. I’ve witnessed it over the past month, people working together, sharing food, supplies, and love across party lines. 

Before the media or any politician arrived, people of different races, ethnicities, socio-economic status, hippies, cowboys, everyone from all walks of life, coming together, cooking and feeding each other side by side. 

When everything is stripped away, the truly important things rise to the surface and beyond the things we need to survive, eating, drinking, flushing toilets, everything felt and still feels frivolous and irrelevant. 

I hope in the coming days, weeks, months, my prayer is that we can hold on to and remember this side of humanity that unites us, the kindness and care we showed each other when we were cut off from the world and all the other agendas fell away.

Yesterday, Tom and I attempted to go hiking for the first time since the storm. It’s the first Leaf Season I can remember when we haven’t had to fight the throngs of people to enjoy the majestic quilt of leaves covering the mountains, something we nearly forgot to appreciate in the aftermath of Hurricane Helene. We are routed through the last open exit on I-40 West, the rest of which is closed until 2025, to get to the Cataloochee Divide Trail.

Cataloochee Divide Trail Area, Great Smoky Mountains National Park-Photo credit Thomas Rodeck 

I savored the sweet silence of no choppers, sirens, entrenched in the Old Growth forests of the Great Smoky Mountains, ancient and wise. The colors were breathtaking as we hike along the ridge, and all of a sudden it started to turn gray. Clouds rolled over us, thunder rumbled. “Really God, really? I just needed a small escape, a calm and serene hike.”

The rain began to pour, the first rains we’ve had in the last 4 weeks, lightning pops just over us. We scrambled down the ridge,  fortunate to find shelter just off the trail. It was a mountain retreat home just beyond the edge of the national park boundary. Lighting popped and crackled right over us  just as we scurry under the carport. I raised my fist to the heavens, my heart pounding in my ears. I started to laugh to keep from crying, at the twisted irony, of getting rained out of this hike I was so excited about after experiencing so much.  I looked up to see a sign on the house, “Faith House,” Hmm, I snorted.

Later we descended the trail, our hike cut short, the leaves now popping with color, my feet and clothes were soaked.  We got back to the car and took the overlook, smoke snaked through the mountain valleys, rising in a fine mist that gives these magical mountains their name, I am awed. As I looked beyond at the misty mountains, I felt small in stature, big in wonder and hope in nature’s power to heal itself.  We have survived this storm, the big one a month ago, this small one that tried to smite us again.  And I’m going to hang onto this hope against hope, hug it tight and pull it close for some of the darker days still ahead.  Let's hope and believe that we can remember the best of humanity did show up and it's still here, in everyone.