It was Friday morning, September 27, and Hurricane Helene had just barreled through my neighborhood. We had no power, no internet, no cell service, and no idea how bad things really were around us. But at the same time, we found something we didn’t expect: neighbors. We had just moved into our new house five days before Hurricane Helene with not enough time to really meet anyone around us. But walking out of our home that Friday, we met almost the entire neighborhood. These were not just superficial greetings but a palpable sense of compassion and concern. Within hours, we were cutting and moving trees to help neighbors we had just met. We were invited inside candle-lit homes to share food that was going bad, passed the evening with new friends around a fire pit, and watched all the neighborhood kids unite and play in the same cul-de-sac. This was my family’s experience in the aftermath of Hurricane Helene. And interestingly, this was the same experience for many of my patients, too.
So many people lost their homes, their communities, and even their lives due to Hurricane Helene. And for those tragedies, our collective hearts still ache. But for those that were more fortunate, the power of community was a bright, shining light in the midst of the destruction. Over the weeks following the hurricane; and I was back in clinic, it seemed almost routine to ask my patients about their hurricane experience. Patient after patient, I heard the same story: despite all of the terrible things that may have happened to them personally, their neighbors came together to help each other, provide for each other, and share in each others’ burdens. Their stories sounded almost identical to my own, despite us living in different parts of town. We had almost zero communication or connection to the outside world. Power, internet, and cell service were all inoperable. But we had each other. This is how we were created as humans — to live socially, to survive as a community, and to flourish through connection.
Having time to reflect on this revelation through Hurricane Helene, here are my thoughts:
1. We have been created to live in community. Despite the pain and fear that Hurricane Helene brought to each of us, there was something powerfully soothing about being with neighbors who also understood our feelings. We could share our experiences in which others could relate. We were outside more, talking to passersby, or dropping in on others to check on them. Not too long ago, our communities operated like this on a daily basis. But with things like television, social media, and Amazon Prime, we no longer have the “time” or the “need” for others.
2. It’s only when we are no longer able to provide for our own needs do we see the power of community. I had a pole saw and the strength to move trees but not enough food for my family. Others were physically limited but had a lot of food that needed people to eat it before it went bad. Others had generators or solar panels and could provide a charging station or a hot meal. In a world that allows us to provide for all of our needs, most of you reading this very rarely have experienced a true lacking of resources or a desperate longing for help. Or we have felt too embarrassed to ask for help. The result is that we no longer feel like we have a role to play in supporting those around us.
3. We are made to be generous in community. The outpouring of support to Western North Carolina has been nothing short of amazing. We are all thankful for the donations, the influx of linemen and tree cutting services, and for calls to increase federal aid to our area. But within our neighborhoods, we felt the joy in giving and providing for others. There’s something very tangible about addressing another’s physical needs immediately and right in front of you, a far more meaningful experience than giving to a remote charity (still a good thing!). And in that joy of generosity, we gave more — more time, more food, and more assistance to others.
Hurricane Helene was terrible, and I hope to never experience something like this again. Our beautiful Smokey Mountains will be forever changed by this disaster. But maybe we have been changed, too.
Troy Jackson, MD