By ROBERT JUMPER
Tutiyi (Snowbird) and Clyde, N.C.
I have had a roller coaster ride with my emotions over the past two months. Sept. 27, 2024, will forever be in my memory and my wife’s. It was the day that we lost our home of 36 years to the flood waters of Hurricane Helene. Like many others who lived in Haywood County, we found ourselves homeless on that day. It was a shock to the system. No matter how you might prepare for a catastrophic loss, it is still a catastrophic loss.
Going to our former home on the Monday after the flood was devastating. Driving into our community, we witnessed an apocalyptic scene. Dazed family members walked like zombies in the remains of their homes and businesses. People wept as they dug through their earthly treasures; family photos soaked with river water and covered in slimy mud. Teams of people were going from home to home, pulling wet insulation, underpinning, furniture, and appliances out and piling them on the side of the road. People were salvaging anything they could of their former lives, bits and pieces that they could hold on to as they started the process of looking beyond the flood.
As we turned onto our street, we could see the home of a neighbor who had several pairs of shoes stretched out across his yard, trying to dry them on the now sunny day after the flood in hopes of wearing them again. Beside his shoes was a mountainous pile of his personal belongings waiting for trash pickup. As we pulled into our driveway, we could see my car. From first impressions, it looked like the car hadn’t been touched by the flood except for a few pieces of hay and stubble that were stuck to it (closer examination revealed that the entire engine and passenger compartments were wet and caked in river mud and was a total loss).
Across the street from us, two houses belonging to neighbors, houses that were closer to the river than ours, were hard hit by the raging water. In addition to the devastation of their homes, they had the harrowing experience of waiting until the last minute to evacuate before the flood. One of those neighbors was an elderly lady that other neighbors who lived above the flood line came in and took to their home to ride out the remainder of the storm. The other neighbor was swimming back into his house to try to save his expensive guitar collection (his earthly treasure) and was nearly carried away by the storm waters. Neighbors rescued him as he held on with his last remaining strength to a wooden fence, fighting to keep from drowning.
Looking at our home on that sunny Monday from the outside, you could only see minor damage. The power of the water had crushed our chain-link fence, and planters were blown around our yard. The only thing that foretold the scene inside was a faint debris line on the siding of the house, an indicator of how high the water had gotten. As I stepped up on the porch, I nearly fell as I slipped onto a floor caked with slimy river mud. When I opened the front door, it was a sight I will long remember. Our home looked like those we had seen as we drove in. The water had risen at least a couple of feet inside our home, and the force of the water had lifted and pushed furniture and belongings all over the house. Any items below the water line were destroyed. Since the electric outlets were underwater, everything that was plugged in, regardless of their location in the house was ruined. Long story short, the insurance company deemed the house, shed, and fence total losses.
More than any material loss is the psychological impact. We humans thrive on a sense of normalcy in our lives. Like many others in the aftermath of Hurricane Helene, my wife and I had certainly lost that. And our losses were minor compared to many other people in western North Carolina. With water, power, and communications nearly non-existent for the first week or two, climbing back into any semblance of normalcy was a long time coming. My big struggle and challenge were not the material losses but finding ways to get back to that sense of normal and secure.
As I made my way into the house to start the process of salvage, I was at a loss on how to prioritize. I needed to know what to do first and thereafter. I had stepped out on my porch and noticed a group of five men and one woman walking over to our house. “Could you use some help?” the leader of the group asked. He said they had to do this before, and if I gave permission, they would help me empty the house and sort through our things. When you are in a place of helplessness, pride must go out the door. Within a few hours, this little crew had most of our salvageable belongings out on the porch and had many of the unsalvageable items piled up for disposal. They opened all the windows and ran fans inside our house to help give us additional time to remove the leftover things from our lives. Then, as quickly as they came in, they left. As they left, they asked if we knew anyone else who might need this kind of help, and they were on their way to work for someone else in need.
I knew that one of my top priorities was to get us into a more permanent living arrangement than the hotel we were staying in. We spent ten days in local hotels. Before I could organize my thoughts on the matter, a fellow church member came to me and told me he had an open rental, and if I needed it, we could go there. He didn’t have to ask twice. My next priority was to find storage for all those things you accumulated over the years and have no place to put them. Just as quickly as the rental appeared, the youth pastor and another friend and church member offered two storage locations to immediately allow me to get the salvageable items to safe locations.
Family and our church family started showing up to box up and clean up items that could be salvaged. Our pastor and youth pastor had already received inquiries as to what we might need. Something I will never forget is when my pastor came to me and said, “Robert, you need to tell us what needs you have because I have already been told that if you don’t, they are going to start bringing stuff to you whether you need it or not.”
And they did. We had friends, and even people who hardly knew us were trying to make sure we were taken care of to the best of their ability, cleaning supplies, food, towels and washcloths, bedclothes, etc. Groups of friends donating monetary gifts. My brother, who lives on the Outer Banks, and sister, who lives near Hickory, didn’t just ask but insisted that we tell them, and they supplied furniture for our unfurnished rental. With my vehicle totaled, I needed a vehicle to commute to work. A friend and then my in-laws stepped up to provide the loan of a vehicle. They were all desperate to help.
We have received support and guidance from insurance companies, tribal and federal government agencies, and church relief organizations. Even down to the county hiring contractors to clean up the pile of our destroyed treasures.
Everyone’s life experience is different. Everyone’s faith experience is different. I don’t intend to change or challenge anyone’s life and faith. I can only attest to my own. As a Christian for most of my life, I believe that there is a God who oversees everything that happens to me. And since only he has omnipotence and omniscience, I don’t have enough information to understand why a flood would take our home. But I do believe that God doesn’t turn a blind eye when his people suffer. I’ve told many of my friends that of all the things that have been done for us by many wonderful people, I covet the prayers that have been prayed for me and my wife. We are slowly finding our comfort level in a sense of normalcy, although things around us may never be the same. And we are thankful for those who have been the helping feet and arms of Christ, supporting us with the love, material needs, and labor we have needed over the past two months.
With so much suffering in our world, it really hits home and reminds us of how thankful we should be when catastrophe comes to our neighborhood and our lives. I have seen so many who have been emotionally broken by just the sight and stories of the devastation during this event. And it should spur us to want to minimize all the suffering we possibly can. I witnessed people who had been hurt by Helene themselves reaching out to provide what little resources they had to help a neighbor. Even those you might consider victims are desperate to help.
Being thankful. You don’t necessarily need a special day or reminder of it. We all know the connotations of the holiday of Thanksgiving for the indigenous population of the United States. But I am not talking about a holiday. As indigenous peoples, we have a history of giving thanks, even to the extreme of giving thanks for the air, the soil, the sun, and the wind. Plants are thanked for growing and animals are thanked for their lives when given in nourishment. I have never been more humbled and grateful to friends, family, coworkers, and support agencies than I am today. Undeserved grace. Unmerited mercy. I am thankful for those who are desperate to help.
