My life has been turned upside down over the last four days. Hurricane Helene swept through Western North Carolina – and though I’m not physically there, the weight of the unfolding tragedy has left me heartbroken.

I knew what was coming when projections predicted Helene would come up through the gulf into the Southern Appalachians. I knew because I’d seen it before.

Back in 2004, when Hurricane Ivan struck, I was at home in Canton. Brandon, baby Bug, and I came up to help Daddy lay out sandbags and prepare for the storm. We thought we had time to escape the worst of it by heading home early the next morning.

But Mother Nature had other plans.

A loud thud around midnight jolted me awake. Rushing to the door, I found it jammed shut with gravel, and outside, a torrent of water surged towards us.

The moments that followed are etched into my brain — waking everyone from their peaceful slumber, rushing to get everyone dressed in the dark, and the dash to Mamaw and Papaw’s house, where the water was already knee-deep.

Daddy took Mamaw to safety while I struggled to help Papaw. There I was, alone, with my hero leaning on me for support… I nearly lost him in the swift water running through the den.

Things didn’t improve once we were in the car. The small bridges that connect Dutch Cove to the valley below were submerged. Thankfully, young men from across the cove came with large trucks and parked them on the bridges, guiding us to safety.

While my Daddy took Mamaw and Papaw to a shelter, Brandon and I braved the storm to get home.

The devastation in Canton was beyond measure. The aftermath of the flooding changed the landscape, and life there, irrevocably. So much was lost, not just in material terms but in the very essence of what was once home.

So I knew what was coming with Helene. I tried to sound the alarm on X, hoping my community of thousands could spread the word. Yet, my voice was a whisper in a storm.

My reach wasn’t enough.

People left for vacations. They headed off to destination weddings. They didn’t evacuate. Many had no idea of what was coming. They didn’t understand what flash flooding looks like in Appalachia.

And now all those people, locals and tourists alike will have their own traumatic memories, their own scars – each with their own stories of tragedy and survival.

Their stories will be much worse than my own. Twenty counties have experienced severe flooding in WNC. Whole towns appear to have been lost. Hundreds of roads are closed. The death toll is rising, and many are unaccounted for.

Communication is down in several areas. I waited for days to get word from back home. My cousin, Amy, was finally able to reach me yesterday. Thankfully, my loved ones are safe. That is a relief. But she shared with me that Haywood County is devastated. It left me terrified of what I will discover when I’m finally able to return home.

Does Mamaw and Papaw’s house still stand? The home Papaw built with his own two hands. The place I have returned over and over again when I needed to reconnect with that hillbilly part of myself that no one else seems to understand.

I don’t know.

What I do know is that historically speaking, Appalachia has been viewed as the American stepchild. The plight of the hillbilly is overlooked. We’re looked down on. Painted in a hideous light. Openly mocked and belittled.

While all eyes are fixated on Florida – and the bigger cities that were impacted, Atlanta, Asheville, and Boone, few will think of the little towns like my beautiful Canton.

So I beg you all: pray. Pray for WNC. Pray for healing. Pray for a quick recovery. Most importantly, pray for a change in the thoughts and hearts of this country.

And if you can or want to do more than pray, here are some organizations you can reach out to about helping in WNC:

• Samaritan’s Purse
• Baptists On Mission
• God’s Pit Crew
• The UMC Western North Carolina Conference
• Cajun Navy Relief

If you wish for your support to directly benefit Haywood County, consider donating to Helping Haywood County. Once communications are restored, I’ll personally connect with churches and local organizations in the area to ensure these funds reach where they are most needed in the community that has profoundly shaped me.